In Your Dreams
by qfd
Summary: A diplomat's daughter spends one wild night of pure abandon with a stranger she meets in a bar in DC who just happens to be Mike Green of the Caps and then they go their separate ways...or do they?
1. Chapter 1

_I'm just at the other end of your night_

_I'm always in and out of your light_

_Right down the middle of all your dreams_

_In your dream_

_(lyrics from 'In Your Dreams' Stevie Nicks)_

**Chapter 1**

_There ain't a reason you and me should be alone  
>Tonight, yeah baby<br>Tonight, yeah baby  
>But I got a reason that you're who should take me home tonight<br>I need a man that thinks it right when it's so wrong,  
>Tonight yeah baby<br>Tonight, yeah baby  
>Right on the limit's where we know we both belong tonight<em>

(lyrics from Edge of Glory LadyGaga)

"Dinner was fabulous, thank you for inviting us." The first lady's hand was warm and soft when she put both of her hands around Chelsea's. "The caterers did you proud."

"Caterers? Not to toot my own horn," Chelsea leaned in and got a lungful of Michelle Obama's expensive perfume, "but that was all me and Aunt Myra." She wondered if some oil rich sheik had made a present of the rich amber and cinnamon fragranced oil and maybe the gold bangles jingling on the first lady's wrist. Her own hand looked bare in comparison but Chelsea was grateful that she'd taken time out this afternoon to get a French manicure.

"Well then you'll have to send me that recipe for that Sachertorte. I can't remember the last time Barack asked for seconds." Chelsea glanced over to where her great Aunt was currently beaming like she'd just been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.

"That's an old family recipe. I think you'd have to pry it out of her with a crowbar." Michelle grinned, patted Chelsea's hand and then moved down the line to kiss her father's cheek and likely repeat the glowing praise she had just heaped upon the diplomat's daughter. Chelsea fidgeted with Makali gown and started to fantasize about getting out of her Prada platforms and putting on a pair of ballet flats.

"You did me proud pumpkin," her father whispered, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. "A few more minutes and the rest of your last night in DC is all yours." Chelsea smiled to herself. All she needed was to find some nice young soldier boy or congressional aide to buy her a couple of drinks and then an expensive hotel room, some champagne in one of those silver ice buckets and in the morning she could roll onto a plane home from there. Or….

Chelsea reached up and pretended to check the backing on one of her earrings and sent a sideways look towards one of the President's guards. He was tall with the kind of broad shoulders that looked like they belonged to a member of the Oxford rowing team and the kind of blue eyes and blonde hair that just screamed as American as apple pie. She gave him a wink. He tugged at his collar.

"CeeCee put the poor boy down," her Aunt whispered in her ear.

"Don't be a party pooper Auntie M," Chelsea hissed back. She thought about letting her hair down from the French twist that had been giving her a headache all afternoon but one of her great Aunt's patented clucking noises made her drop her hand.

"Go find someone _off_ duty," her great Aunt advised sternly. "I'd hate that your being a tease ends up being the reason the President gets killed." Chelsea twisted one red ringlet around her finger and pursed her lips at the guard in a suggestive kiss.

"Don't be such a drama queen," she sighed and then stifled a giggle as her Aunt poked her in the ribs from behind.

* * *

><p>"Fucking shit boys!"<p>

It was a sentiment that Mike couldn't agree with more as they stepped off the plane into the windy cool early spring evening. He glanced up at the clouds retreating to the east and rolled his eyes.

"I wanna get faced," he muttered as he strode down the steps behind the mighty number eight who was still cursing, but now in Russian. Mike knew some of the words but he wasn't in the mood to try and force his tired brain to decipher them.

"Yeah, get fucked up and get laid," Laich agreed from behind him, laying one of his big hands on Mike's shoulder. "Whaddya say boys, let's go make some lovely young ladies night and put this bitch of a season to bed properly." That was putting it mildly, Mike thought as his feet hit the ground. It had been a shit season. He'd either been injured or hadn't played well and Tampa spanking them and sending them packing in the playoffs was just icing on the cake. He was almost looking forward to cleaning out his locker and getting home to nurse his wounds, both physical and emotional. It was going to be a long summer.

"I think I'll just go home, have a beer, go to bed," Nicky muttered as the group loitered at the foot of the stairs leading from the private jet. Mike opened his mouth to agree, knowing that when he was in a mood like this he wasn't good company. He had a certain reputation for being the fun guy that he knew he could never live up to tonight. Before he could, Ovie had his arms draped around both of them.

"We drink. Is an order. Lux, one hour." It was an order and from their captain no less. Mike felt like telling him to stuff his order. After all, had their fearless leader done a little more leading on the ice and a little less off the ice they might be heading to Boston instead of sending Tampa off to play the Big Bad Bruins. As usual though, Mike merely nodded, despite a sharp glance from Nicky who no doubt would have preferred that Mike back him up and he would have, except he'd been drinking alone a little too often lately.

"We'll just go for a couple drinks," he promised his Swedish teammate whose shoulders drooped as he fell into step beside him as they made their way to the parking lot. Not only was the quiet Swede not much of a drinker but he lived in fear of hot drunk co-eds. "I won't abandon you tonight, I promise," Mike added, sending Nicky off balance with a hip check.

"You always say that," Nicky shot back with a shake of his head that sent his blonde hair into his eyes.

"Yeah, but I _promise_ this time," Mike replied tossing his keys over the roof of the low slung white Lambo, "and I'm letting you drive. What more do you want?"

* * *

><p>Normally hitting a club on her own would have sent Chelsea into paroxysms but knowing she wasn't going to be back to DC for a while had given her a sense of fearlessness that normally was something she ever felt when dressed in clinging gold lame and strappy sandals. The appreciative looks she was getting from the male patrons of the dark dance club were further buoying her spirits as she sipped at a cocktail that glowed in the dark and was topped with paper umbrellas and pineapple cubes on a plastic sword.<p>

Back home she'd be more dressed. Back home club gear meant wranglers and Stetsons. Back home they'd think she'd sleepwalked in her nightgown. Here, even with a dress whose curve skimming properties left next to nothing to the imagination she was overdressed. As she swayed to the techno beats from her perch on a barstool, she could see Paris France and damn near every girl in the club's underpants as they swung their hips and were constantly on the verge of a nipple slip in eensy weensie spaghetti strapped barely there tops and hootchie skirts that were more like bandanas. She knew most of the women, by day, wore the DC uniform of starched white blouses and charcoal gray business suits with skirts to the knee and boring black pumps so she didn't blame them for letting it all hang out by the light of the moon. However, it left her feeling a bit like the old maid, the wall flower, the girl who was destined to be the last one picked for the softball game.

"I buy you drink, we dance, I take you home, rock your world, da?"

Chelsea blinked, her lips still pursed around the bright yellow crazy straw. She prayed, just for a moment, that when she turned around the face she'd see would be one of her father's aides, or at the very least someone she knew from the Consulate. When she slowly spun on the barstool it was all she could do not to scream out loud. He looked like something out of a cheesy black and white horror movie from the fifties. She almost expected the next thing out of his mouth to be…oh what was it Igor said…?

"No…definitely not," she decided aloud. God, she sounded rude and snotty and she hated those kinds of girls but no one that looked like that should be walking up to perfectly solid sevens and saying things like that. Maybe Johnny Depp or Ryan Gosling could do that…no could definitely do that, but not this guy. "Sorry," she added apologetically, because he did have nice blue eyes.

"Okay, your loss," the Russian with the low forehead merely shrugged and grinned and walked away from her as if he didn't care that she'd just shot him down without actually accepting a free drink first. She watched him go out of the corner of her eye, watched him rejoin his entourage of young men who, predictably, jeered him boisterously. That, she decided, going back to her drink, was worse than what she'd done.

She was about to turn away, about to go back to watching the writhing mass of sweating humanity on the dance floor when one of the caribou left the herd. She wanted to turn away, to discourage yet another out of town sailor or whatever they were from trying his luck but something about the way his t-shirt rode his wide shoulders and the '_please, please don't kick me in the nuts'_ look in his eyes made her pause.

'_No, no, no'_, she sighed to herself as she turned and put her drink on the bar, '_not fair. I'm a sucker for puppy dogs.'_

"I'm sorry about Sasha," he slid onto the barstool beside her. "He thinks he's all that but he forgets sometimes that he looks like he just escaped from the Homo Habilis exhibit at the museum." Chelsea couldn't help it. She tried not to grin but his friend had put his finger on it.

"I was a bit worried he'd pull out a club and drag me away by my hair," she agreed. She glanced sidelong at the young man who was now tearing the corner of one of the coaster in front of him and he smiled and nodded his head but kept his gaze riveted to the tiny shreds of cardboard he was creating.

"You have nice hair. That would kind of be a shame for him to pull any out."

* * *

><p>Jesus H Christ had he actually just said that? Mike curled his hands into fists in front of himself and clenched his teeth. He was out of practice. Normally he didn't have to chat up girls. They just kind of showed up and threw themselves at him. This one wasn't going to do that, he'd seen that the minute that Ovie had said he was going to take her home. He'd also been able to see, just like everyone else had, that the Great Eight wouldn't stand a chance with a smokin' hot red head like the one sitting there with her legs that went on for miles wearing that flimsy excuse for a dress that just begged for him to run his hands all over it.<p>

Now that he was here, however, Mike didn't think he stood that much of a chance with her either but he'd taken the opportunity to sneak out while Brooksy, Carly and Schultzy were making mince meat out of their captain.

"I'm sorry that was totally lame," he apologized and glanced over to find her giggling behind her hand.

"No, I'm totally flattered," she replied sincerely, though he could see her amusement at his complete lack of game in her eyes. He nodded and got up off of the bar stool. He'd leave this class piece of tail to a guy that could handle her, like Nicky or Brooksy, Mike decided, and wait until some slightly more inebriated and less challenging skirt draped herself all over him and purred in his ear that she wanted to be taken home. That was just easier.

"Anyways, uh…sorry about him," Mike stuttered and turned to go.

"Seriously, you're giving up, just like that?" He stopped, mid stride and actually wondered if what he was hearing was in his imagination. With his luck, he thought as he debated whether or not to turn around, he'd look and she'd be gone or worse, she'd laugh at him again. '_Jesus'_ he cursed himself again. The loss tonight had seriously deflated his mojo. '_You can do better than that Greener'_ he told himself, squaring his shoulders. '_You're a god damn hockey fucking superstar_.'

"Who me, give up? I was just testing you," he put on the big shit eating grin that his alter ego, Darkstar, Green wore when he talked to women and turned around. "Can I get you another one of those?" He motioned for the bartender and then turned back to see her watching him as if she was trying to figure out what had just happened. He was on the verge of apologizing yet again when the expression on her face altered and a slow, sexy grin spread across her face. Part of him was disappointed. Girls liked Darkstar, they didn't like Mike Green. He was always sort of hoping that one would see through his shit, call him on it and actually make him step up and be himself.

That day, it seemed, was not today.

* * *

><p>He didn't really dance. In fact she was pretty sure that he was one of those white boys with absolutely no rhythm. He did, however, hold onto her hips like he knew what to do with them as she used him like a stripper pole. He also looked at her like he knew exactly what he wanted to do with her, which was making her wish the alcohol she'd drunk would absorb into her system faster so she could get silly and brave at the same time and stick her tongue down his throat and ask him to take her home. She wasn't that drunk, yet, and he wasn't good enough looking for her to do it before the beer goggles got a little thicker.<p>

Not that he was ugly. He wasn't. He just wasn't exactly one of those sculpted Greek statues that she usually drooled over. He was a little soft around the middle, she thought as she ran her fingers lightly down his ribs, making him squirm as if he'd like to giggle but wouldn't, not in public. It was just a little extra to hold onto, kind of like his chubby cheeks. It was just baby fat that, given a little hard work, would melt quickly away.

It was his eyes that were doing her in, she decided as she rocked and swayed her way up his body. She wanted to call them bedroom eyes but one minute, as he looked down at her, they were full of sultry, desire filled thoughts and then the next minute one of his friends would jostle him and his eyes would light up and he'd laugh and these cute dimples would show and the whole sex thing was gone. Then she did want to tickle him into submission.

The contradiction was so immediate and unexpected that it caught her off guard and nearly sent her off balance. He caught her, easily and seemingly without trying and Chelsea found herself staring at a pair of impressive guns that strained every thread and fiber in his dress shirt.

'_Hmmm, maybe not __**so**__ soft then'_, she thought to herself as she let her fingers do the walking until she had her arms locked around his neck. He dipped her, immediately, bringing her back up against him with enough force that she every part of her was pressed against every part of him. '_No, __**definitely**__ not so soft,_' she thought as she found herself staring into the depths of his dark eyes.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" she heard herself asking before the thought had really had time to germinate in her brain.

"Uh…yeah," he answered before she could add any kind of rider to it, like to take a walk out by the reflecting pool or visit the Lincoln memorial, first date kind of things to do. She didn't want to date the guy, she reminded herself as he turned and tugged her along behind him like a trailer to his full size pick-up truck, and she was leaving in the morning. She just didn't want to be daddy's little goody two shoes for just one night.

* * *

><p>Mike was glad he'd brought the Bentley. The Lambo was a chick magnet, no doubt about it, but this girl wasn't the usual puck fuck he took home in the low slung sports car. This chick looked amazing in the deep black leather seats. '<em>Bentley should use her to sell cars<em>' Mike thought as he glanced across the consul at her, at the way her glittering gold dress looked like some kind of bling against all the black. Even her hair, which had to be out of a bottle because there was no way anyone was actually born with hair the colour of rich merlot, looked like some kind of gemstone against the headrest, like something you'd order from the accessories catalogue. _'That would be some catalogue_' he thought to himself as he glanced down at her mile long legs and licked his lips nervously. She looked like the kind of expensive escort that Ovie would sometimes call up on the road, the ones that showed up in the nicest clothes and pretended to be your girlfriend when you met them at the bar in the hotel but you knew that the concierge and all the hotel staff knew that you were paying ten grand to get your knob waxed. He could hardly believe this one was coming home with him for free.

She hadn't raised an eyebrow when he'd led her to his car, but she didn't seem to know who he or any of the other guys were either, which was also odd, Mike thought as he reminded himself to keep his eyes on the road. He knew damn well that most of the girls he took home whose names he rarely remembered by the time he was shooing them out so he could go to practice were only boning him because he was a professional athlete. Normally that didn't bother him, everyone got what they wanted, the puck bunnies got to say they'd fucked an NHL star and he got his rocks off; it was a win, win situation. Sitting next to this beautiful red haired siren, Mike couldn't help but wonder why she was here with him and what her angle was and that made him nervous enough that the wheel began to feel slippery in his hands.

"This is it," he muttered as he pulled up to the square nondescript six story industrial looking building. She tilted her head to the side and looked up at the building just as he pulled into the underground parking lot. The light was harsh and bright and Mike had to fight the urge to rub at his eyes as if he'd just woken up.

He pulled into one of his parking spaces, between the Lambo and Escalade and shut off the car. He intended to get out and walk around and help her out of the car but before he was even out of his seat she was already climbing out. Mike watched her long, pale legs slide across the leather and his mouth got dry. He really didn't know what she was doing here with him.

Sliding his keys into the pocket of his suit pants, he led the way to the elevator, wondering if he should reach for her hand or put his arm around her. Usually when he brought a girl home from the club he almost had to hold them up, or they both had to hold each other up and invariably the girl was carrying her heels having long ago lost the ability to walk in them. Not this one, Mike noticed as he glanced down at the gold ribbons that wound around her shapely calves. She walked confidently and the sound of her heels on the pavement echoed around them.

As they waited for the elevator she wrapped her arms around herself and he saw her shiver. He hadn't noticed if it was cold, but he was glad that he finally had the opportunity not to look like a total tool. Sliding his jacket off, he laid it carefully over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she smiled and pulled the lapels closed, huddling inside. He was a little sorry to lose sight of the shimmering fabric caressing her skin, but his knees got weak when she smiled at him.

The doors opened with a whooshing sound and she stepped inside. Mike looked down at her legs again and an image of them wrapped around him. He got so lost in thought for a moment that he didn't even realize that she was holding the doors open for him until she cleared her throat and he was forced to meet her gaze knowing that he was blushing like a grade school kid with a crush.

They didn't talk all the way up. They stood side by side like he did sometimes with other people that lived in the building. It wasn't that he was antisocial, it was just that he wasn't good at small talk and he was kind of tired of being asked what it was like to play with Ovie or when were the Caps going to get past the second round of the playoffs.

He almost felt relieved when the elevator doors opened in front of the front door to his loft. He put his key in the lock and started thinking about what drink to offer her. He had a lot of beer and Gatorade in the fridge and not much else. He thought there might be a half a bottle of something Brooksy had left there and maybe there was still some of that berry juice that Nicky liked to mix with vodka, but he wasn't sure. He was still thinking about that when he toed off his dress shoes as they got in the door and was about to ask her which she'd prefer when he found himself watching her drop his suit jacket to the ground and head up the stairs to the terrace.

./videocenter/console?id=36731&catid=16

.com/2009/03/22/lord-stanley%E2%80%99s-crib-mike-greens-penthouse-loft/

'_So much for the grand tour'_ he thought as he padded, in stocking feet, up the stairs after her. He was pretty proud of the place and it had cost a pretty penny. Girls always gushed over the art on the walls, the lighting and the old school casino colour palette. She'd ignored all of it and went straight for the terrace. '_She must think the bedroom's up here'_ he thought to himself as he found the door propped open and the cool night air coming in. He'd probably forgotten to lock that again, he chided himself as he picked up the remote he always left near the door to turn on the hot tub. People always dug hearing about how they'd had to use a crane to get that up to the terrace.

"Coming?" The next sound he heard was the remote clattering on the floor as it and his jaw dropped to see her shimmying out of a black lace g-string and stepping into the tub. Mike felt like he'd become rooted to the floor. He felt like he was suddenly eleven years old again and seeing a woman naked for the first time and felt just as inept now as he had then.

He watched her milky white curves disappear into the now bubbling liquid and realized that he was going to have to get undressed in front of her. Normally he didn't have a problem getting naked in front of just about anybody, after all, he showered with twenty other guys just about every day of his life but right now he wasn't quite drunk enough to do strip in front of _her_.

If he'd been ripped like Brooksy he'd have already been in the hot tub with her. If he didn't care about what people thought of him, like Ovie, he wouldn't have even let her get up the stairs. The problem was, he wasn't either of those things and inside of him was a fat kid who had got changed in the bathroom rather than in the dressing room to avoid anyone seeing him naked. Hockey had helped him to get over that, but not this, not getting naked in front of a beautiful woman.

He didn't have as many notches on his bedposts as Ovie or Brooks, not that he had bedposts, but he did okay…with mostly drunk co-eds and puck fucks. If he was drunk enough, he didn't care that he wasn't exactly the Adonis he pretended to be on the internet. If they were drunk, they didn't seem to care that he had love handles and of course there were the tats that some of the guys on the team made fun of him for. All of those reasons explained why he was standing there, staring blankly back at a total hot girl who was naked and waiting for him in his hot tub and he was still frozen to the spot.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_My body is calling out for you bad boy  
>I get the feeling that I just want to be with ya<br>Baby, I'm a freak and I don't really give a damn  
>I'm crazy as a motherfucker<br>Bet that on ya man_

If ya like what ya see  
>end your curiosity<br>Let your mind roam free  
>Won't you pay attention please<p>

_(lyrics from Get Naked (I got a plan) Britney Spears)_

'_Shit_!' she cursed silently as she turned to find him still standing in the doorway to the terrace staring at her with his mouth hanging open. 'I _bet he's a fucking virgin'_ she added as she tried not to roll her eyes when he caught her watching him and suddenly became very busy looking for the remote he'd dropped the minute he'd realized what she was doing.

When the valet had Bentley brought the Bentley around she'd immediately assumed that he was just another one of those privileged Senator's sons that seemed to fill the clubs in DC. When they'd rolled into the parking lot she wondered if she'd be eating scrambled eggs with his parents in the morning. But when they'd walked into the apartment and a quick glance around screamed bachelor pad, she figured she was dealing with a either the Senator's son using the love nest his father brought his mistresses to or she was dealing with one of those drop out social media millionaires that had invented twitter or facebook or something like that.

Now, as she watched his hands literally shake as he began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, she decided it had to be the latter and he definitely had to be a virgin. 'Just my luck' she mused as she intentionally turned her back on him to give him some modicum of privacy while she pretended to be taken in by the view.

It seemed to take forever but she finally heard the sound of him getting into the water behind her and she kept very still, as if she was watching a deer and was afraid of spooking it. She waited until she felt him sweep her hair aside and press his lips to her neck before she even breathed. Even then she stood absolutely still, gripping the edge of the hot tub in both of her hands, until she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her back against him.

It felt like being embraced by an anaconda, in a good way. She glanced down at his biceps and then her gaze followed an unexpectedly decorative strand of ivy and flowers up to a more tribal tattoo on his shoulder and then he was kissing her neck and she forgot to worry about whether he knew what he was doing or not. What she could feel pressed to the small of her back was reason enough for putting up with any kind of awkward fumbling that might ensue. '_Besides'_ she thought as his lips travelled across her shoulder and his hands gently but firmly cupped her breasts, '_it's just one night. It's not like I have to see him again'. _

He pulled her back with him to the opposite edge of the hot tub and pulled him down onto his lap. Chelsea gasped as he easily slid up into her, a combination of the warm salt water and her own buoyancy making any kind of four-play unnecessary. It was a bit presumptuous, but then she'd been the first one to get naked and she besides, she really didn't mind. In fact she was glad he wasn't much for small talk or any other kind of pretense. She was here for a good old fashioned fucking and as he bounced her up and down on his long, thick hard pole that was exactly what he was giving her.

Reaching back, she dug her fingernails into his wide shoulders and pressed her feet flat against the side of the tub so he could free his hands from her waist. He didn't need any encouragement or guidance. The palms of his big, calloused hands immediately went back to her breasts, went back to gently massaging each handful of soft, pale flesh while she slowly rode him.

'_Okay, not so much a virgin either'_, she decided as he gently rolled her nipples between his fingers rather than tugging on them like they were old fashioned radio dials and not ultra sensitive. Some men could be so crude when it came to breasts, playing with them like they'd never seen them before, like hormonal teenagers. He wasn't like that at all, despite how quickly they'd gotten down to business.

"Turn around." She obliged him without complaint, spinning easily in the water and only splashing a little as she put a knee down on either side of his massive thighs and lowered herself, gradually, back down onto him until he was entirely sheathed within her sex. His eyes closed and his mouth fell open again in this soundless cry that she thought was kind of adorable. Putting her hands back on his shoulders she went back to slowly bobbing up and down, her breasts floating on the surface of the water just brushing his chest. They weren't exactly Zac Effron's abs but she liked the sprinkling of dark hair in the centre of his chest and ran her fingers through it. That made him jump, which made her gasp out loud.

"You like that?" There it was again, those dimples, that shy smile like he couldn't believe his luck that made her want to smother his chubby boyish cheeks with kisses. With a great deal of self restraint she merely nodded. He pressed himself up into her again and she tossed her head back and gasped for air.

"Yessss," she mewed, wrapping her arms around his neck, "again."

* * *

><p>He rarely paid much attention to a woman's pleasure. Not that it didn't matter to him because his ego was big enough that he wanted to think he could satisfy a woman but because a lot of the meaningless one night stands he'd experienced were more about getting his rocks off and besides, he knew that most of those girls faked it anyway. He'd believed in all of those noises and screams that sounded a lot like someone torturing a cat when he was a bit younger, but after a while, he'd figured it out. It had bruised his ego, but just like a loss in the playoffs, those had also been learning experiences. Since then he'd taken his friends Brooks' advice and chosen a few older women, women who gave voice to their needs and didn't shy away from scolding him when he didn't quite do it right.<p>

He wanted to please the red head riding his cock like a pogo stick. He liked the way her raspberry pink lips fell open when he bottomed out inside of her and when her green eyes flashed when he dipped his head down and took the blush pink tips of her breasts into his mouth. He was pretty sure she wasn't faking when her breathing quickened and got shallow. He watched the pulse jump in her throat and her pupils dilate. Best of all, he watched a fine blush rise up in her chest and begin to climb towards her swan like throat. He doubled his efforts, using his hands to encourage her to slide all the way up until he was barely inside of her at all and then he pulled her back down until their bodies met and he could go no further.

"Helllllllll yessss," she grinned and, with her hands still laced behind his neck, she arched her back and suddenly it was all different. It felt different inside of her. It felt like her cunt was eating his cock alive. Her breasts looked like they were being offered up on plates with real whip cream and strawberry preserves. Stars spun in front of his eyes. There was a buzzing sound in his ears. He was going to explode and there wasn't a condom anywhere in sight.

Mike clenched his teeth and closed his eyes and brought up an image of Ovie in his mind and started to count every single blemish, pimple, zit and acne scar on the Great Eight's face. He tried to visually measure the gap between his captain's front teeth. He even went so far as to visualize him in a pair of those tight Speedo-like striped underwear that the big goofy Russian liked to wear. That did it. His balls relaxed a centimeter or two, which was enough to stop him from exploding inside of her; for now.

"We should uh…probably go inside," he suggested. He wanted to run his heads, both of them, under some cold water for about half an hour. That's what it was going to take to cool his jets. She'd probably want him to take her home now. He'd have to take care of his little 'problem' later even though right at this very moment waiting felt like a fucking impossibility.

"But you didn't…you know," she grinned down at him as she slid off of him but not away from him. He opened his mouth to lie, say that he did, but she wrapped her fingers around his width and speech became…well unfeasible. She climbed back onto his lap but she kept a tight grip on him, sliding her palm up his shaft and over his helmet using slow but firm tugs that were making it very hard to breathe. So was the fact that her breasts were pressed against his chest and he could feel the hard little pebbles of her nipples moving up and down his chest with each delicious stroke.

She had freckles, a spattering of them across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheeks, and her eyes were so green, leaf green. He didn't think he'd ever seen eyes that colour, except maybe on a cat. He couldn't stop looking at her, counting her freckles and then, staring at her mouth. Her lips were full and they were reminded him of a pin up girl's mouth, moist and enticing. But the thing that fascinated him the most was the colour; they looked just like someone had taken a strawberry and smashed it against her mouth and let all the colour sink in. He wanted to taste them. He wanted to know if they tasted as sweet as they looked. He wasn't much for kissing, for making out. In fact he hadn't even thought about kissing her at all, until now. But now, with her lips that close, with her red waves falling around them both like a waterfall of fire, that wasn't much else that he wanted to do except kiss her.

He wondered if he should ask permission. After all, she was the one who had just gone ahead and got naked and he knew, not from experience, but he'd heard that some women had a rule about not kissing guys that they weren't into having a relationship with and he had to think that a one night stand probably counted as one of those situations.

But he really, really wanted to kiss her. In fact the more he thought about it, the more he started thinking about her tongue and what that would taste like and then he was grabbing her ass with one hand and the back of her head in the other and he was smashing his mouth against hers'.

She paused. Her hand stopped in the middle of his cock, like the elevator stalling between floors. She stopped breathing. She stopped…and then she didn't. Then she was kissing him back and her tongue was dancing around his and then they both sort of seemed to forget about his dick at all as he carried her out of the hot tub and onto the nearby couch.

He tossed all of the throw pillows aside, maybe even some off of the terrace all together and then he lowered himself onto her and she smiled invitingly up at him and their bodies just sort of…fit together and they were moving and kissing all at the same time and Mike's head felt like it was going to fucking explode. This wasn't something he did. Not that he avoided kissing the girls he brought home because he knew women liked to be kissed but he never did that and fucked them at the same time. It was one or it was the other and quite frankly all he usually did was sort of hide his face in the girls' neck when he was doing the deed. In his old place he'd had a mirror that sometimes he'd even make faces at himself in when he got bored of all the fake noises and the fake expressions but then he'd caught sight of his own orgasm face and took the mirror down.

"Fuck you feel good," he whispered against her mouth. She dragged his lips back down and kissed him into silence, which he was glad about. He didn't usually do that either, talk during. Grunt, groan, swear maybe, but not talk. He didn't even know where that had come from. "But you do," he insisted when he had to come up for air. Her lips curled into a smile and she sort of shook her head and then reached up to pull his mouth back down over hers, but he resisted. The trainers were always telling him he had to work on his shoulder and neck strength but he felt pretty strong now as she tried to tug his lips towards hers. "What? Can't you admit this is pretty great?" She raised a single eyebrow and gave him that look. The look that said 'are you serious' but without being mean about it but she also didn't say that she agreed, at least out loud.

"Shut up and kiss me," she laughed and dug her heels into the backs of his thighs and drove him deeper inside of her. Mike did as she asked. He kissed her and nibbled on her full bottom and he decided that it did taste a little like strawberries which made him want to taste other things.

"You have really nice tits," he muttered as he kissed his way over her collarbone and down the slope of her perfectly shaped handfuls that were not too much and not too little either. He curved his hand around one and lowered his lips over its perfectly pink peak. He was aiming to sample its equally tempting twin when he realized she was trying, and failing, to stifle a giggle behind her hand. "What?" he asked, holding a breast in each hand and looking up at her.

"Do you always talk this much?" she asked, wiping at one of her eyes and grinning like he'd done one of his famous totally uncoordinated pratfalls that made Brooks and Nicky laugh until they cried and threatened to throw up.

"Uh…no, not really," he admitted, and then looked down at the pale mounds in his hands, "but they are fucking spectacular."

"Well then, thanks, I think," she giggled, reaching towards him and caressing his cheek with her fingertips. "You're sweet." He made a face. He couldn't help it. Hearing those words was like the equivalent of hearing 'it's not you it's me' or 'of course I love you, like a friend'. They weren't exactly the words he wanted to hear when he was balls deep in a girl's pussy.

"No, I'm a total ass. You can ask anyone," he growled and then dipped his head down and took her nipple between his teeth. He tugged, just a little, but enough to make her squeak, enough to make her eyes roll back in her head and stop grinning at him like he was some cute little kid in a propeller hat.

He felt her dig her fingers into his hair. He felt the walls of her pussy close around his dick like a vice. It made him catch his breath, but he powered through it. He wasn't as good as some guys at playing through pain. Actually he was mostly a pretty big girl when it came to pain, but this he could handle. He licked his way around and over her nipple while he rammed into her like his life depended on it. She made all kinds of cute noises and each and every one of them made him want to force her to repeat each and every one of them.

"Are…are you close?" he heard her ask as he kissed and bit his way back up to her neck, to the skin that tasted like fat ripe juicy summer peaches picked right off of the tree. The kind that when you bit into them sent juice dripping down your chin and onto your shirt and made your mom yell at you.

"Not even," he replied with a growl, reaching down to slide his hand beneath her thigh so he could press it wide, so he could fuck her harder, deeper.

"Oh…oh godddd!" she moaned as he changed the angle and made shorter, shallower thrusts. "How…how long can you…?" her voice trailed off into a long low moan as he lifted her other leg so that her long, pale leg was pressed to his chest and thrown over his shoulder. The honest answer to that was that he didn't know because most of the time he didn't get all that adventurous with the girls he brought back here. Mostly he stuck to the pretty vanilla straightforward missionary stuff with a little doggie style thrown in and he never, ever, tried to stop himself from letting go like he was doing now.

Mike concentrated on the glow of her skin in the semi dark, the way she bit down on her bottom lip when he bottomed out inside of her and the way her skin felt cool and smooth under his hands. He didn't think about the way her pussy had started to suck at his cock. If he did he'd cum and he didn't want to do that. Not yet.

Sliding one hand down between them, he pressed his fingers against her clit and felt her entire body tremble. She whimpered and tossed her head from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut. He was going to make her cum again and he felt pretty proud of himself for that.

"Yeah baby, cum for me," he urged, quickening the pace of his thrusts and rubbing her clit vigorously. She was holding onto the back and the arm of the sofa, her eyes were squeezed shut and she was panting and she looked like a model out of the pages of Vogue to him. Her skin was moonlight pale against the vibrant pumpkin orange cushions and the deep crimson of her hair shimmered like a jeweled halo around her face.

Jesus, what was he, some kind of fucking poet now? Mike laughed at himself. If he said anything like that to any of the guys, except maybe Nicky, they'd first look at him like he'd lost his friggin' mind and then they'd laugh their asses off. You didn't fucking was poetic about chicks you boned, not unless you were going to marry her or something and he didn't even know this girl's name. He was about to ask her when her back arched and she screamed. He thought he was going to scream too as her pussy clamped down on his cock like she was trying to cut off his circulation. His vision swam as his balls tightened and threatened to blow.

It almost hurt to do, but Mike pulled out and squeezed the base of his cock in his hand. That had been a near thing.

* * *

><p>Her hands were pressed against the slate tile and her feet were spread and the water raining down on them from the shower head was getting cold and Chelsea was pretty sure she was losing feeling in her lower extremities. He felt even bigger from this angle and she knew she was going to feel sore in the morning but she also didn't ask him to stop, didn't want him to stop. He had one hand completely covering her breast and the other was working her clit while he fucked her and she was so close for the…what was it now, fourth or fifth time?<p>

'_How come the cowboys at home can't do this_?' she wondered to herself as another scream ripped through her, leaving her throat raw as her entire body pulsated with the strength of yet another orgasm. She felt him press his forehead between her shoulder blades and heard him curse quietly. How he was holding off she had no idea. She'd heard professional athletes and yoga instructors could fuck for hours without letting go but that apparently didn't apply to professional Bronc riders.

Her next thought, as he drew her back against him and kissed her neck tenderly, was '_why didn't I meet you before?'_ That was a dangerous thought. She didn't want to get involved and she could see herself easily becoming addicted to this. '_It's a good thing I'm leaving in the morning'_ she reminded herself.

He reached around her and shut off the water. Still holding her around her middle, he opened the shower door and reached for a big, fluffy white towel that looked like the kind you use at a spa and wrapped it around her. It was warm, like it had just come out of the dryer.

"Heated towel racks? Damn, you've got all the toys don't you," she muttered as he gently but firmly rubbed her dry. He smiled but said nothing as he directed her out of the shower and grabbed a towel for himself. She grabbed a hand towel from some folded ones on a shelf and started to dry her hair and found herself staring at his legs. They were powerfully constructed and looked like something that could easily be used to model muscle groups.

He caught her staring and blushed, actually blushed. This guy, who had made her scream loud enough to wake up half the city and have the US government raising their threat level to orange was standing there blushing like he wasn't still sporting an impressive woody and definitely knew how to use it.

"Did you take a little blue pill?" she asked, letting her gaze slowly travel up his legs and intentionally stopping at the spot he'd just covered with the towel.

"No," he denied it quickly and the quizzical look on his face told her that he wasn't one of those Jersey gorilla douchebags that popped Viagra for every date. "I didn't plan on…y'know…this tonight," he added blushing again right up to the tips of his ears. Chelsea wanted to grab his cheeks and pinch them he was so fucking cute when he got shy. '_**Such**__ a good thing I'm leaving in the morning'_ she decided as she reached for his towel, catching him significantly off guard enough to pull it out of his grasp and dance away from him before he could grab it back.

She'd seen what she was pretty sure had to be the master bedroom further back down the hall, a king sized bed with dark sheets. She dropped her towel half way down the hall and almost made it to the bed before he caught up to her, tackling her and forcing her face down on the bed. Not that she minded in the least being caught.

He flipped her onto her back with ease and pinned her arms one on each side of her head as he kneeled over her. He was grinning again and Chelsea decided she liked it best when he smiled. 'I'd be so dead if I wasn't leaving tomorrow' she knew as he brought his mouth down towards hers'. She waited for a kiss, for him to press his soft lips over hers, but instead he nipped at her lower lip and then abruptly buried his face in her neck and started to blow.

She squealed. She kicked and struggled, swore and even threatened him with physical harm but he held on and held her down and blew raspberries into her neck, between her breasts and lastly onto her stomach.

"Are you insane?" she tried to kick him but he avoided her thrust like a dancer, laughing, his eyes crinkling, dimples deepening.

"Are you ticklish?" he asked, letting go of her wrists and digging his fingers, instead into her ribs, making her thrash and squeak like a god damned guinea pig caught in the family cat's mouth. He laughed as he found the spot behind her knee that made her stamp her feet on the quilt and try to crab walk away from him. He grabbed her ankles and tugged her back across the bed. She expected him to bury himself in her then, but instead he disappeared between her thighs and suddenly her laughter died and she was sighing and digging her heels into the bedspread for another reason.

* * *

><p>It wasn't something he normally did, go down on a girl he wasn't attached to and not because he didn't enjoy it but because it was just a bonus he didn't afford just anyone. It was something he'd been told that he had a certain gift for, which was probably because he loved being the cause of all those noises, the squirming and eventually the pleading. That was his favorite part, when they begged to be fucked. He could hardly wait for this energetic little red head to beg for it.<p>

Parting her nether lips like a curtain, Mike gently nibbled her delicate folds and explored the velvety soft pink skin that glimmered in front of him. He probed her entrance with the point of his tongue and then licked his way northwards until he found that little bundle of nerves that made her squeal when he kissed it, when he sucked it into his mouth and ran his tongue around it.

Her fingers dug into his scalp and she fucked his mouth with her pussy. He lapped at her juices like a cat with a bowl of cream and was rewarded with a deluge of curse words. This little sex kitten had a dirty, dirty mouth. He imagined her lips around his cock, her pink tongue wrapping around the head of his dick and her emerald green eyes looking up at him. He moaned and she cried out, her nails digging into his wet scalp.

Brooks had taught him a little trick that a part time teacher he'd boned in Pittsburgh had taught him. It was called the alphabet game. Mike started with a capital 'a' and then using an upstroke with his tongue began to draw the letter 'b' across her clit. She let fly a string of f-bombs that would have made Boudreau proud.

"What…what is that?" she stuttered. Mike answered by drawing the letter 'c' with fancy curlicues and a 'd' with a certain flourish that had her raising her hips off of the bed. By the time he got to 'm' for Mike she was begging, pleading, bargaining and he was reaching for the condoms in the nightstand.

Wiping the back of his forearm across his mouth, Mike settled himself between her milky white thighs, hoping that the white spots swimming in front of his eyes were only the result of all the blood having permanently been settled in his dick for the last hour. Holding his aching cock in one hand he looked down at the glistening pink folds of her pussy, the gentle slope of her belly, the upsweep of her breasts with their pink tips and then up to her soft mouth that was currently turned up in a playful grin.

"You finally gonna cum for me?" she asked, pushing herself up on her elbows and staring down at his dick where he was holding it just outside of her entrance.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. He was getting pretty tired. He'd been half dead on his feet when they'd gotten off the plane tonight. It was only her smokin' hot bod that had got him this far. He prayed that his Johnson didn't let him down now.

"Well go on then," she teased, reaching down to guide him inside. Not that he needed any help. His dick was like a fucking heat seeking missile and her pussy was definitely the hottest thing he'd ever enjoyed with its little triangle of tight red curls pointing the way.

Mike watched his dick as it disappeared and immediately felt his balls pull up tight. She was hot and so wet and he'd held off so many times already tonight that he was probably going to fucking embarrass himself now. He cursed, clenched his teeth and silently prayed that he'd make it more than a couple of strokes before he went off like old faithful.

Her hips rose to meet his and Mike just about passed out. He wanted to tell her not to move, to just lie there and stare at the ceiling but he couldn't form the words, especially when she reached up to guide his hands down onto her perfect tits. He felt the hard little buds of her nipples in the centre of his palms and he rotated his hands slowly, making her suck in a breath through her teeth. He dared to move then, while he held her gaze, while she looked up at him like she was daring him to do his worst. He wanted to, but he knew he didn't have it in him. He already knew it would only be a couple more strokes and he'd be done.

"Uh…do you think you're gonna…I mean do you think you might…y'know…again?' he asked and her smile grew.

"I think you've done your duty tonight. Let's worry about you right now cowboy." Mike nodded silently and shut his eyes. '_Hmmm'_, he thought momentarily perplexed, '_how did she know I'm from Calgary_?' Shaking it off he laughed at himself. She didn't, of course. It was just one of those things girls said.

Her nails dragged slowly down his arms and he thought it was strange how good that felt. He'd had girls scratch him up before and he hadn't liked it at all. Actually he'd been kind of pissed off about it, mostly because he wasn't good with pain but this wasn't pain. It was just…sensation.

"That felt good," he told her, opening his eyes as he lowered himself gingerly down onto her. He felt her legs go around him as he reached up to cradle her face. He kissed her hungrily and curled his tongue around hers'. She dragged her nails up his back and he shuddered.

"How about that?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, her voice kitten soft in his ear. His cock twitched. He was so close now.

"Again," he asked and this time his kitten's claws came out and he felt her nails digging into his back, leaving ribbons of raw flesh behind and he didn't care. He pressed her down into the bed, shoved himself deep into her pussy and let himself go with a long, low groan.

* * *

><p>He was snoring softly, his lips parted, his baby cheeks covered in stubble and his brown hair pointing in every which direction as Chelsea slid out of the bed. The clock beside the bed read five thirty and her flight was at eight. She had to get back to the Consulate, change and get to the airport still. She thought about waking him to say thank you but she had a feeling if she did he'd be able to keep her in his bed and she'd miss her flight. He looked so young and adorable laying there that she didn't have the heart to do anything but brush her lips gently over his cheek.<p>

"Bye bye mon cowboy," she whispered and then, grabbing what looked like a clean, folded plain gray t-shirt from a pile on a chair near the door, she headed out to find her underwear, her dress and her shoes.

When she hit the top stair of the rooftop terrace and quietly pushed the door open, the first rays of the sun were just reaching over the horizon. She stood there for a long moment, watching the sun struggle to clear the rooftops of the city. She wouldn't miss DC with its no go areas and its cocktail parties and political buffet luncheons. She longed for the tall green grasses and the never ending skies of home.

She gathered her panties from the edge of the hot tub and stood there for a moment staring at the water, remembering the he'd filled her for the first time. Her body remembered it with a clenching low in her belly. There was an ache there that she'd never felt before. He'd touched places no one had ever touched before.

Shaking off that memory she turned to find her dress thrown over the railing and wondered it hadn't blown off during the night. As she slipped it over her head she found herself staring at the bright orange cushions on the outdoor couch, remembering how it had felt to have him hold her pinned beneath him and the look of boyish wonder on his face as their bodies fell into a rhythm together.

Turning from there she collected her shoes and carefully padded back down into the bachelor pad with all mod cons. She found the phone, or a phone, in the kitchen and called for a cab. At this early hour it would only be a few moment before the taxi would be waiting downstairs. Chelsea turned on the tap and went to stick her head under it. She found herself staring at the led lit water, the blue light shining through the silvery stream.

"You really do have all the toys don't you?" she said to someone who wasn't there. Sticking her hands under the stream of cool water, she smoothed down her hair. It would still look like she'd been in bed but maybe it wouldn't be immediately apparent that she was doing the walk of shame.

Except for her shoes, she thought as she shook out and then pulled the cotton t-shirt over her head. It was longer than her dress and a few sizes too big but it was warmer than what she was wearing and maybe it would look like she was going to the gym.

She fought the urge to look down at the mail sitting beneath his keys beneath the water feature by the door. '_You don't need to know his name and address Cee Cee_,' she chastised herself as she pulled the dead bolt free and slipped outside. She carried her shoes to the elevator and rode down in her bare feet. The cabby; however, didn't even blink when he opened the door for her.

"Big Caps fan?" he asked as he held the rear door open for her.

"Huh?" she looked down at the red and blue lettering on the front of the t-shirt where the words 'property of the Capitals' was emblazoned across her chest.

"Uh…no, haven't been to a game," she admitted as she slid into the back seat. "Canadian Consulate please."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_I wanted to save this last light.  
>With dawn comes certainty of what we'll be, for now hold me lightly.<em>

_I won't wake you up. No need for last words.  
>These last idle hours. More than I deserve.<em>

_(lyrics from Kiss You Goodnight Meg & Dia)_

"Got hot date?"

Mike didn't pause as he stuffed his skates into his bag on top of his shoulder pads and work out gear and he didn't take the bait Ovie dangled hopefully from behind him. He didn't want o talk about dates or girls or anything even related to either topic. He wanted to get the hell out of this place before anyone stuck a microphone in his face and asked him if he thought he'd be back next season or if he'd end up being trade bait. He didn't want to think about that. In fact he didn't want to think about much aside from getting out of the city and back to big sky country and some peace and quiet.

"He's in a bad mood," Nicky noted and Mike winced. He'd left his friend high and dry again. He hadn't even realized until right this minute when he'd heard Backie's voice.

"Whatchya do Lambogreenie? Fall asleep on that hot little red head?" Brooksy slapped his shoulder on the way by. "You shoulda called me in to bat clean up for ya." Mike felt a growl of annoyance building up in his chest and had to take a deep breath to stop himself from snapping. The grilling he was taking was no different from the teasing he'd put up with a dozen times before when he'd left the club with a girl. Today though his skin felt like tissue paper and Nicky was right, he was in no mood to put up with the usual repartee.

The fact was his ego was bruised and he knew damn well that he wasn't much of a poker player when it came to most of the guys in this room. If he tried to blow it off, they'd see right through it and he'd end up having to explain why he was upset and that was something he was still working on.

He would have kicked her out anyway, if she hadn't already been gone when he woke up. Generally he wasn't into morning sex and not just because he'd been told that he almost always looked like death warmed over when he rolled out of bed. He just wasn't a morning person. Even after a coffee and a bowl of cereal he didn't really feel human until he'd done a couple of laps on the ice, feeling the cool air on his face.

But for the first time in a long time he'd woken up craving the woman he'd been with and not just her body. He wanted to see her smile, wanted to hear her laugh. So when he realized that she was gone, he'd been disappointed and then he'd been angry. He didn't want to think about her and he really didn't want to still be thinking about her, but he was. He was thinking about going to every bar in the city until he found her. He'd even checked his facebook status while he'd eaten his toast, hoping she'd asked to be his friend. So he had to get out of the city before he found himself sitting at Starbucks looking at every single red head that walked by.

"Something's wrong," Nicky whispered, sitting down on the bench beside him, his own bag already packed between his feet. If it had been just about any other member of his team asking, Mike would have blown it off, denied it, and asked to be left alone. But this was Backie and he wasn't asking to get the goods, to get his digs in, to make Mike go three shades of red. He was asking because he actually gave a shit.

"I'm sorry I left you…again," he apologized, though he knew he didn't need to. Backie wasn't the type to hold a grudge. It just wasn't in his gentle nature.

"So, was she a…a…clinger?" Mike couldn't help but grin at how well Backie had picked up on the slang around the room but his smile disappeared as he thought about waking up to find the spot next to him in his king sized bed empty and cold. She hadn't even had a glass of water so he could go all CSI and have the glass sent to a lab to be dusted for prints and tested for DNA. '_Fuck_,' he thought with a sigh as he dropped onto the bench beside Nicky and dropped his head into his hands '_I'm fucking losing it over some random girl and I don't even know her name'. _

"No," he replied honestly, "she was…fine…no, she was…ah fuck it!" He felt his entire face get hot the way it had when he'd realized that he wasn't nearly drunk enough to get naked in front of a beautiful woman. "It's never been like that, y'know?" he looked up at his teammate, knowing that of all of the men in the room right now, there'd be no sarcastic comeback from the young man sitting silently beside him. Unfortunately there is also no affirmation. The Swede merely shrugs. '_Of course'_, Mike thinks as he rolls his eyes at his own hubris. Nicky isn't a man whore. In fact the truth is that the young Swede is as far from a slut as any hockey player Mike has ever met. Nicky wants to be with 'the one' and isn't willing to settle for less. It's a choice that has often made the young center the butt of jokes in this locker room, even from Mike.

Mike opens his mouth to say something dismissive like '_you wouldn't understand'_ when Nicky does something unexpected. He smiles in a sly sort of way that Mike knows is almost always followed by something he doesn't want to hear. Mike shakes his head. He can already hear the words in his head before his friend actually speaks them.

"No, no, no. Don't look at me like that," he insists and then rolls his eyes and shakes his head when his teammates just continued smiling at him. "There's no such thing," he insists which only causes his baby faced blonde teammate to shrug and continue to stare back at him with the same expressive smirk on his face. "You can look at me like that all you want. I don't even remember her name. So there."

"What are you two girls talking about?" Nicky was the one to turn an evil eye up toward Brooks who stood over both of them with his 'I'm about to cause shit' grin on his face.

"How we're going to rent the honeymoon suite when I get to the stampede," Nicky grinned and reached out to touch Mike's hair. Mike slapped his hand away and glared at him.

"Oh can I come to?" Brooksy minced, trying to lower himself onto Mike's lap. Mike glared at them both and pushed Brooks away.

"Get off me you fag," he muttered, reaching for his bag. "I'll see you fuckers in July."

"Only if you're a very, very good boy," Laich called after him. Mike flipped him the bird over his shoulder and headed out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Hey there girl, did you miss me?" Chelsea let the soft velvet muzzle of her appaloosa, Popcorn, fill her hand. She pressed a kiss between the horse's eyes as she lowered her head and softly nickered a greeting. Chelsea closed her eyes and let the familiar smells of hay and horses fill her to the brim with a sense of homecoming. This had been her first stop after the taxi dropped her off at the end of the long driveway. He'd have taken her right up to the front door if she'd asked, but she wanted to stretch her legs. It had been a long flight. "Hey now, I don't have anything for you yet," she giggled as the mare poked at her shirt, looking for hidden treats in her pockets. "I'll come back with some later, promise," she added as she ran the flat of her hand down the mare's muscular neck. The mare bobbed her head up and down as if she understood.<p>

Chelsea giggled and turned to walk down the aisle of stalls, most of which were filled with other people's animals, paid boarders, all but the last stall which was empty and closed. She tried not to look at it, told herself she wouldn't stop but her feet seemed to have a mind all their own. The next thing she knew she was facing the Dutch door and reaching for the lock. Her hand hovered over it, half of her brain telling her to keep moving while the other half felt like a metal filing pulled towards a magnet.

This was the stall that her mother's horse, Joker, a wild eyed head strong quarter horse stallion, a barrel racing champion and her mother's pride and joy had ruled the roost from. She could hardly remember ever coming into this barn without hearing him stomping his feet and demanding, loudly, her attention. No one could ride him. No one but her mother and even then he only ever wanted to run, tossing his mane, prancing and threatening to bite when she'd put his bridle on and then gnashing at the bit until his mouth was filled with froth and blood. His blue eyes, the result of a rare but prized genetic trait called overo, would roll back in his head and he would paw at the ground until his saddle was cinched tight and then his entire body would ripple and shudder as if an army of ants was crawling beneath his skin until her mother swung into the stirrups and dug in her heels and then he would take off as if he had afterburners.

Chelsea lifted the pin from the lock and pulled the top of the Dutch door open. The stall was spotlessly clean right down to the concrete floor. The water bucket stood empty in one corner and all of the first place ribbons had been taken down. The stall looked as barren as the space in her heart that ached for her mother every single day all because of a gopher hole.

She could still see it now, when she shut her eyes, her mother going over Joker's neck when he stumbled, his leg twisting, snapping like a twig as his body lurched forward but his leg did not. She'd heard the impact, her mother's body twisting as it fell to earth like a rag doll, going eerily still, unnaturally rigid.

She'd known, before she'd even brought Poppy to a halt and slid to the ground, before she'd pressed her fingers to the spot where her mother's pulse should have been. She'd known at a very basic level before she'd realized that her mother wasn't breathing. She'd known what she'd find but that hadn't stopped the primal scream that had torn from her lungs. Her screams and Joker's bellows of agony had brought her father and a gun.

The echo from the shot that had brought on the unnatural silence still seemed to hang in the air in the barn as Chelsea slowly closed the door and let the lock fall back into place. She rested the flat of her hand against the rough hewn wood. It was as silent and as still as….

"So you're finally home."

Chelsea turned and looked down the aisle at the talk drink of water standing with his broad shoulders seeming like they could fill the entire doorway. His straw Stetson was tipped forward, shading eyes that she knew were the colour of summer skies from the sun. His shirt was open almost to his navel framing his smooth sculpted chest that glistened with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Hi Jimmy," she smiled and turned to lean her back against the closed stall door. Tipping his hat back to reveal his square jaw dusted with the golden scruff of few days growth, his wide easy smile and his twinkling blue eyes. He was devastatingly handsome in that Hollister model sort of way.

"What no call? Were you even gonna let me know you were home?" he asked, his dusty boots clumping on the concrete as he walked towards her. She watched him close the distance between them, waiting for the jump in her pulse, the tightening in her chest that usually accompanied Jimmy Henry's sudden appearance but even as he leaned his forearm over her head and loomed close enough that she could smell the hay he'd been stacking and the musk of his body, it didn't happen.

"I'm tired Jimmy," she whispered, tracking a glistening drop of sweat that dangled for a moment from his chin and then slid down his throat and began to make its way over his collarbone. She didn't dare look lower. She knew what his chest looked like beneath his shirt, each and every muscle defined as if carved from alabaster. "I just came to see Pop and then I thought I'd head in and crash for a while. It's a long flight, y'know?" She did tremble, just a little when his other hand reached up and the knuckle of his index finger traced the line of her jaw.

"Want some company?"

She almost laughed. The aches of the night before hadn't yet subsided but that wasn't the reason that she was shaking her head and looking away.

"I'm _really_ tired," she told him honestly, ducking beneath his arm and moving away.

"Alright," his long reach caught her before she got more than a step away and she looked down at his long fingers as they curled around her wrist. She'd always liked his hands. They were the hands of a man who knew an honest days' work. "Dinner though, okay?" Chelsea nodded and that smile of his, the one that made women passing in the street stop and turn to watch him walk by, shone down on her like the noon day sun. "Wear somethin' pretty," he added, glancing down at her jeans and ballet flats with disapproval before leaning in and pressing his lips to her forehead. "Glad you're home CeeCee," he added in his deep, husky voice, the one that had been sending chills down her spine since it had changed when he was fourteen years old.

"Yeah, me too," she sighed, closing her eyes and waiting for that sensation, that bubbling over giddy feeling she got when he kissed her to surface but that feeling too seemed to be absent. She opened her eyes to watch him grin in the way he did when he thought she was being just a little odd, but then he just kissed the corner of her mouth and turned and walked away.

She'd always loved to watch that man walk away and today she was no less appreciative but something was…off…different.

'_It's just because I've been away'_, she told herself as she pushed herself back onto the balls of her feet and walked the other direction out of the barn and up towards the house. '_It has nothing to do with last night_' she added as a sort of afterthought as she bounced up the stairs and into the empty house. '_Except that I didn't get enough sleep'_, she added silently with a yawn as she stuck her key in the lock and pushed the door open to the simple old farmhouse with the formal dining room on one side of the stairs and the living room on the other, the kitchen at the back of the house and three small bedrooms upstairs.

She was almost dead on her feet by the time she pushed open the door to her room, the one that still had her college hoodie hanging over the footboard of her double bed and the same dusty rose wallpaper on the walls. Kicking off her shoes Chelsea crawled up onto the bed and grabbed hold of the floppy eared stuffed rabbit that sat guarding her pillows.

"Hello Mr. Wabbit," she mumbled as she curled up on the top of the home made, hand me down quilt with its ragged edges and faded patchwork fabric squares and closed her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Let's have some respect_

_Got girls in here_

_Just pay your tab_

_And lay down your beer Hoss and let's take it outside_

_Take it outside_

_It's man to man_

_Toe to toe_

_You know we need to go_

_Nobody's gonna break it up_

_Not until you've had enough_

_And if you think you've got the guts _

_Then let's take it outside_

_If you think you're man enough_

_You really wanna knuckle up_

_If you wanna shed a little blood then let's_

_Take it outside_

_(_Lyrics from 'Take it Outside' Brantley Gilbert_)  
><em>

**Chapter 4**

"This is exactly why I don't live here in the off season anymore," he grumbled as Mike stared at the plate his mother had just put in front of him, heaped high with perogies, bacon, cheese and sour cream. His mouth watered but he could already hear the trainers at camp making those disapproving noises about the extra weight he'd put on over the summer. "Shouldn't there be something green on this plate?" One of the dieticians had told him once not to eat anything that had a face and always to make sure he ate something green. He had lime jello in his fridge and not the sugar free stuff. He was pretty sure that wasn't what they meant but he liked it. He also liked pistachio pudding but he wasn't a big fan of broccoli. He was pretty sure it was the broccoli they wanted him to eat.

"Since when did you start turning your nose up at your mother's cooking?" Mike poked a fork into one of the little bundles of fat and carbs and then dipped it into the sour cream that, knowing his mother, wasn't the light, low cal stuff. He put it into his mouth, closed his teeth on it and his mouth was suddenly full of cheese and grease, bacon and sour cream, carmelized onion and potato. It was heaven. He closed his eyes and felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. This was exactly whey the trainers called him a fat redneck but there was no way he wasn't cleaning off his plate. He would just have to find some way of working off all of this later.

"My baby boy's never turned his nose up at my cookin'," his mother ruffled his hair. If any of the guys back in DC had seen that he'd never have heard the end of that. He could hear the apron strings comments in his head. Here at home, though, he got a sort of glow in his chest that matched the amazing taste in his mouth. It was good to be home.

"So what are your plans for tonight son?" his father asked. Mike kept his eyes on the plate in front of him. So the old man already wanted him out of the house. So much for missing him, Mike thought as he speared another perogie and smothered it with sour cream.

"I guess I'll see if any of the guys wanna meet up," he muttered before putting the cheese and potato filled dough pocket in his mouth.

"You mean you're gonna let the local girls know the big hockey star is home," his mother teased, planting a kiss on the top of his head. Mike laughed around the mouthful of home cooking. Back here he might still get into the VIP section but he was hardly competition for anything in a Stetson and a pair of tight Wranglers. It had been a big shock to him his first summer home. It wouldn't be now.

"We'll probably just go out for a couple beers," he replied, taking his phone out to send a couple of texts to some old school friends who'd be happy to have him buy a round but who wouldn't expect him to buy the next one. He felt her gaze on him and looked across the table to find his mother staring at him intently, her head cocked to one side, a smile on her lips that didn't go all the way up to her eyes. He knew what was coming and steeled himself for it.

"When are you gonna bring home a nice girl to take care of you Mikey?" Normally he'd have a quick answer to that question, something along the lines of not needing one and being way too young to settle down when there were so many pretty girls out there. Tonight he poked at his food and shrugged his shoulders as visions of a certain red headed vixen suddenly filled his thoughts.

"Don't know mom," he replied quietly, suddenly bereft of the appetite it would require to finish the food in front of him. "I uh…better leave some room for those beers," he muttered, pushing the plate away from him and scraping the chair back. "Can you put that in something for me mom? I might have it for breakfast."

* * *

><p>"A picnic?" Chelsea stared at the basket in Jimmy's hand as she stood half in and half out of the front door. She'd put on a light yellow sun dress with spaghetti straps that stopped just above her knees that she'd bought in DC. It hadn't been warm enough there to wear it there yet but there was a warm Chinook here tonight and the sun wasn't down yet.<p>

"It's a beautiful night," Jimmy smiled and held his free hand towards her. She put her sweater in her other hand and pulled the door shut behind her. He was wearing dark blue denim that stretched invitingly across his ass. Dress jeans the boys around here called them. They were pressed with a crease down the front. She easily imagined him standing at an ironing board in nothing but a pair of tighty whities and his well worn straw cowboy hat. The vision in her head made her smile. "If I'm honest I didn't want to share your attention with anyone else tonight," he grinned at her as he opened the passenger door of his old beat up F-100 and helped her inside. He gave her that look that should have made her heart skip a beat but she only smiled back at him and then looked away as she smoothed her dress over her lap.

He was wearing his best dress shirt, stiffly starched, collar pressed. The light blue of the cotton matched his eyes. She knew that she should want to run her fingers over it, should want to undo each and every button slowly to reveal his sculpted chest beneath it. She also knew that's why he'd chosen it. Not only because it brought out the blue in his eyes but that it would also bring back memories.

Chelsea looked down at the basket as he slid it onto the space between them on the bench seat. She could smell chicken pie inside, his mother's recipe and one of her favorite things in the world. It made her chest ache. He was really pulling out all of the stops.

She took his black felt hat when he handed it to her and watched as he ran his long fingers through his blonde hair. It already had some of the highlights in it that would make it almost white by the end of the summer. He'd let it get a little long while she was gone. He normally kept it military short, almost a brush cut. She found she liked it this way, with bangs that almost fell into his eyes the moment both hands where on the steering wheel.

He aimed the truck up the rutted dirt road that went behind the house and she felt her heart beat begin to race. She knew where he was heading and she also knew why.

He'd be expecting her answer and he had a right to it, she thought as she ran her fingers along the crease at the top of the cowboy hat in her lap. She'd asked him to wait until she got back from taking her mother's place in DC and when she'd said it she'd firmly believed that she would feel exactly the same when she got back as that snowy night that she'd left but that was before she'd gotten a taste of freedom, of riding in limos and attending cocktail parties with heads of state, Princes and VIP's. She had believed she'd been grown up enough to make that decision when he'd asked the question by firelight, curled up in front of the fire, the flickering flames turning his face golden like the god she'd always thought he was. In so many ways she felt like that girl who had looked up at him and thought he was everything she wanted was just that, a girl, a child. She felt so much more grown up now, now that she'd been somewhere outside of this little world with its tall grasses and endless skies.

When the truck slowed in front of the gate to the upper paddock Chelsea's heart was racing and her hands had gotten clammy. This was maybe her favorite spot in the world, dotted with wild flowers and at this time late in the spring the grass was up to her hip. It was a good place for a girl to hide, sit in the grass and watch the horses and dream. It was also the place she'd made love for the first time, when Jimmy had been so tender and patient and she thought that had been the best day of her entire life. That was why they were here, why he was grinning at her as he reached for the basket and gave her the blanket to carry. It was supposed to make her happy but suddenly it was the last place in the world she wanted to be.

"I want to go dancing," she blurted suddenly as he opened the door for her. He stood there, picnic basket in one hand and the handle of the door in the other, staring up at her like she'd just said something in another language.

"Dancing?" he asked, looking perplexed. She ran her finger along the edge of the brim of his hat and nodded, but didn't meet his eyes.

"Yeah, let's go to Cowboys. I feel like doing some line dancing, maybe a two step or two?" She raised her gaze to meet his and hoped that he didn't see the panic in her eyes. She did her best to smile, to look enthusiastic, even as her pulse pounded in her chest and she fought the urge to dry her hands on her dress.

"If that's what you want." He looked over at the meadow and Chelsea swallowed with some difficulty. He'd gone to a lot of trouble, put a lot of thought into this and she felt like the worst person on earth but she knew if she went into that paddock, if she sat down on the blanket and he looked into her eyes that she'd say yes and then…, then she'd be stuck here forever as a farmer's wife and she'd never see a big city again.

"Y'know, long flight, then a nap…I just need to stretch my legs," she told him which wasn't a lie and that was a good thing. She didn't want to lie to him. She didn't want to hurt him either. '_Maybe I just need a little time to get used to being home_' she thought as he nodded and tried not to look disappointed as he closed the door again. She watched him walk around the front of the truck, watched him pause before he reached for the door handle on the driver's side. He was probably cursing under his breath, probably saying something about how flighty she was so she gave him her best hostess smile as he climbed back behind the wheel. "I can feed you the pie on the way there," she offered and he nodded, but he kept his eyes on the road and his lips pressed in a thin, decidedly unhappy line.

* * *

><p>"You know you're never gonna get farther than that as long as that gap toothed idiot is on your team right?" Mike smirked as he stared into his beer.<p>

"That gap toothed idiot is the captain of my team and the reason that a lot of those butts are in the stands. He's an amazing player." It was a defense that came easily, not least of all because it was true.

"Fuck, not this year. Tell me he was playing with a broken arm or something," one of his other friends pleaded as he joined them at one of them tables that circled the dance floor. Most of his buddies had chosen to sit on the barstools that faced the floor. Mike had intentionally chosen the one that did not.

"The coaching staff made some changes to the way we play. They didn't match up with Ovie's style," he explained. These guys had played the game, hell most of them still did play the game in midnight and weekend beer leagues. He could probably draw up plays on the back of one of the coasters and explain strategy and they'd understand it. The fact was he didn't want to talk shop tonight. Somewhere between his parents place and the bar he'd decided that all he wanted to do was get messy drunk and pick up some cute little cowgirl to take home and ride him, make him forget that sexy little red head whose body was still haunting his imagination. "We still made it farther than the Flames," he began, getting ready to rub a little salt into the wound, but when he looked up from his beer, none of his buddies were paying any attention. In fact all of them were staring at the dance floor like men coming out of the desert and finding an oasis.

Mike turned on his barstool. There was a line of mostly girls in daisy dukes or skimpy jean skirts and cowboy boots, pig tails, braids and either t-shirts or button down shirts tied somewhere above their belly buttons. It was the regular fare for Cowboys, Calgary's most notorious party spot, and most of the girls were certainly cute enough to be openly gawked at, but Mike was pretty sure he knew what had them all staring.

He thought he was maybe seeing things, like you do when you want to see something or someone badly enough. It was the red hair that had caught his attention. He'd never really been the kind of guy who had a type, blonde or brunette they were all pretty much the same to him. He liked women, all women in that 'how could I possibly choose' kind of way. '_Maybe one night could make a difference'_, he thought to himself as he watched the girl with the cherry red hair trying to drag some tall drink of water onto the floor. In just about any other city with the obvious exception of Nashville, the guy would have been laughably out of place in his iron on wranglers and his black cowboy hat. Here though, the only thing that made him stand out was the belt buckle that damn near looked like a hubcap from a Navigator and the fact that he was tall, taller than Mike knew he was on skates.

"Bet he can't dance," one of his buddies dug his elbow into Mike's ribs. '_And what can my two left feet do about it if he can't?_' Mike wondered to himself as the music began to play and a chorus of 'yee haws' rose from the crowd on the floor.

That was the problem with Cowboys. He liked looking at all the girls in their cut offs and bandana tops but he couldn't do any of the line dancing or cowboy waltz stuff. That required more coordination than he had, off of the ice anyway. He was about to turn back to his beer when the red head gave up trying to drag her cowboy Casanova onto the floor and joined the line just as they broke it down low.

It was something about the way she got low and something about the way her frothy little sundress danced around her ass when she did that made him pause. There was something in the way her cherry red curls bounced as she came back up that made it hard for him to breathe. He'd thought that colour could only come from a bottle but he'd followed that landing strip to heaven and no one dyed the hair down there…did they?

'_Couldn't be'_, he blinked and then reached up and rubbed his eyes. It had to be jet lag, he reasoned as he found himself sliding off of the bar stool and circling around to the other side of the dance floor. He'd wanted to see her and now she was here…things like this just didn't happen, especially not to him.

The grin she wore as she wiggled her ass to the hard driving southern rock song he knew. It was imprinted on his brain and hit him like a wrecking ball, nearly making him stagger backwards as she threw her head back and giggled when she missed a step.

Mike lifted his ball cap and ran his fingers through his unruly hair, not able to believe his eyes. Even if he didn't trust his vision, his cock twitched in his jeans as if to say that it knew exactly what he was looking at. And then there was that scar, that little puckered starburst of skin behind her knee. His mouth knew it, he remembered running his tongue over it, remembered the way she squealed when he tickled the back of her knee.

His gaze followed the long, lean line of her legs up to the hitch hem of the gauzy yellow dress and he knew that a whole pitcher of beer wasn't going to do anything to reverse how dry his mouth had become watching her. Mike dug into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill and dropped it onto the tray of one of the passing servers and took two shots of tequila off of the tray she held above his shoulder, downing them both in quick succession. He still couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't understand how she could be here, but there was only one way of finding out if he was day dreaming or not.

* * *

><p>She loved the song that was playing. In general she was pretty open minded about music, her iPod was testament to her eclectic taste but when it came to country she preferred something with an electric guitar and a hard driving beat. She was a little disappointed that Jimmy wouldn't dance to it but it didn't really matter, not once she got going. She was out of practice though, she realized as she missed a step and got behind, but she didn't care. She felt free out on the floor and at least Jimmy had cracked a smile when she'd begged him to dance.<p>

He was still smiling when she looked over at him now, only there was a covetous gleam in his blue eyes too as she stomped and twirled to the music. The expression on his face said that he was clearly thinking 'she's mine' and for once today Chelsea found that she didn't mind. In fact she kind of liked the way his eyes got all soft when he watched her, like she was the only girl in the room.

'_It's not really him I'm mad at'_ she reminded herself as she gave him a warm smile. He tipped his hat to and gave her one of those slow smiles that turned her heart into melted butter. '_Guess that still works'_ she grinned at him as the song came to an end and the next song, a swing by George Strait began to play. He walked slowly towards her and her and Chelsea got that feeling that she'd been waiting for all day, her heart began to swell, her pulse jumped and her knees got a little weak as she reached out to put her hand into his.

Except it wasn't his hand that hers went into. As she spun on the heel of her cowboy boot, she turned to find herself looking into a pair of dark brown eyes that sent a shock wave straight down her spine.

"You," she sputtered, almost tripping over her own feet as he clumsily guided her around the corner of the floor. "What are _you_ doing _here_?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," her last night in DC hissed as he stepped on her foot, making her wince. It was a good thing he was wearing sneakers. If he'd been wearing boots it might have hurt worse.

"Why? Do you think you're so amazing that I flew all the way across the country for another bang?" she snapped back at him, to which he made a face, turned and dragged her off of the dance floor. She was running to keep up with him when he stopped, dead, causing her to run into his back. Peeking around his shoulder, she looked for the reason why; Jimmy was blocking their way.

"Would you mind taking your hand off my fiancée." It was in the form of a question but it wasn't one. Chelsea could tell by the way his eyes, normally so blue had turned a stormy gray. Chelsea tried to pull her hand loose but just as she'd remembered it being, the hand holding hers was strong, the fingers thick and unyielding. She tried to go around him, put herself between him and Jimmy but he held his arms out, blocking her path.

"I don't see a ring." She felt his thumb move quickly over the back of her hand, checking for the tell tale bump of a solitaire no doubt. She could barely contain a smile.

"Cee Cee, do you know this…low life?" An hour ago Chelsea might have said yes, just to give herself some distance, some space away from the rush of her impending future. Now, as she looked up at the scowl on Jimmy's handsome face, she knew she would do anything not to hurt him.

"No," she replied calmly. She didn't add anything like she'd never seen the guy in her life; that would have been a lie. As it was, she didn't know him. She didn't know his name or what he'd been doing in DC or whose loft they'd had sex all over, so 'no' wasn't a lie. She felt the man holding her hand's entire body become very still. He turned and looked over his shoulder at her, the shock in his eyes not at all hidden by the brim of his tractor hat.

"You're _engaged_?" He wrinkled his nose, as if the word itself left a bad taste on his tongue.

"Not _yet_," she replied in a whisper, dropping her gaze down and to the side so that Jimmy wouldn't read the words on her lips, wouldn't know that she felt she had to give an explanation to a total stranger. She glanced up at him through her hair and thought she saw relief in his dark eyes, just for a moment, and then he was moving and so was she.

"I _said_ take your hands off." Jimmy had a hold of him and instinctively, protectively Chelsea pulled backwards on the hand that was still holding hers'. Their fingers were laced. They seemed to fit together that way, like two puzzle pieces that once you'd put them together would not come apart. She realized in that moment that she didn't want Jimmy to hurt him and he could. He was a Provincial champion steer wrestler and the man whose hand she was holding, she remembered, didn't look like the kind of guy who hit the gym. He had strong legs. That was something else she remembered and thought '_maybe he could run'_. A vision of Jimmy chasing him across the parking lot with a lasso made her smile and she did her best to hide it behind her other hand.

"Mike, you got a problem with cowboy bob here?" His name was Mike. Chelsea peeked up at him. The name suited him she thought as she watched him spare a quick glance towards his friends who were coming up behind them. He still hadn't let go of her hand but the angry glower he'd had just a moment ago, which she thought didn't suit his baby face at all, was cracking around the edges.

* * *

><p>"Not sure yet," Mike replied as his buddies fell in behind him like a posse. He didn't actually like fighting. He'd do it, if he had to, but he didn't like it and the last thing he needed right now was to have to call and tell the organization he'd broken his hand on some guy's face in a bar brawl. On the other hand, he didn't like the way this guy was looking at…damn, he still didn't know her name.<p>

"CeeCee." The guy held his hand out towards her and beneath the brim of his cowboy hat Mike could see a patronizing little smile on the guy's face that made Mike curl his hands into fists. He wanted, really badly, to knock this guy's teeth down his throat and that was an emotion he just wasn't used to feeling, at least around anyone other than say Max Talbot or Sean Avery.

"Mike, you have let go of my hand." She said his name. His heart raced in his chest to hear her say it like that, in a half whisper, her lips so close to his ear. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes and lean back to get a whiff of her perfume, to feel her body sway into his. He used the anger he was feeling to suppress the softer feelings he didn't really understand.

"This guy, really?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at her. Her jewel green eyes met his and she smiled and nodded. He wanted to ask if she was sure and he wanted to just drag her out to the parking lot and leave with her. Instead, very reluctantly he let his fingers slide from hers' until just the tips of their fingers were touching. '_Why does this make my chest hurt?'_ he asked himself as he stared down at her finely boned fingers with their white tipped nails. He could feel them in his back, felt the sting of them digging into his flesh and he shuddered. "Are you…you're gonna marry him?" He forced himself to look into her emerald green eyes even as he told himself that he being a god damned pussy. She was just a fuck, a one night fucking stand. He shouldn't care. He did.

"Pretty sure, yeah," she replied, leaning in and brushing her lips along his cheek. He clenched his jaw and did his best not to moan. Her hand slid from his and he was left standing there, watching her walking towards him, going up on tip toes to kiss his cheek as the praying mantis wrapped his claws around her and turned to usher her away.

"You know that chick?" one of his buddies asked putting a beer in his hand. Mike started to shake his head and then stopped.

"Kind of, yeah," he muttered. CeeCee, the guy had called her that twice. Mike tried it out, whispering the name under his breath. It didn't seem right. It didn't fit the little vixen he'd had in his bed. It sounded too childlike, too innocent.

"She's smokin' hot. I can't believe you just let him take her like that." Mike stared at the spot where the crowd had already swallowed them both but he thought he could still see her cowboy's hat bobbing over most of the heads. He couldn't believe it either. He tipped the beer that had been put in his hand up to his lips and took a long swallow. It didn't do much to cool the aching burn in his chest. He'd have to try a few dozen more.

* * *

><p>Chelsea was still staring straight ahead, feeling the bumps and bounces of the driveway up toward the house but not seeing it. She was still seeing Mike's pouting lips and the bedroom eyes. '<em>Mike'<em> she smiled as she thought about the way his hand had felt holding hers' and the way he'd looked at her, as if he was pleading with her to stay with him. A little part of her had wanted to.

"Strange, that guy thinking he knew you." Chelsea made a noncommittal noise in her throat and then turned towards Jimmy who was staring straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. He was still wearing the same guarded expression he had been since he'd manhandled her out of the club. She hadn't liked to lie to him, but she told herself that it would hurt him less than knowing who Mike really was. When she'd left for DC he'd told her she had her freedom for as long as she was gone. She'd known then just as she did now that he hadn't really meant to give her permission sleep around. That had been her decision but she'd never meant to rub his nose in it. That had all supposed to have stayed in DC with her father. It was never supposed to arrive on his doorstep. "And you're sure you didn't know him?" Chelsea blinked and then stared into her lap.

"I think he was maybe just drunk," she mumbled as the old pick up rumbled to a stop in front of the farm house. Chelsea glanced up at the porch light, expecting the flutter of butterflies in her stomach that usually began right about this time. They were there, but there was only a couple, not the usually swarm of beating wings that sent her pulse into overdrive. She looked across the bench seat to where Jimmy was still holding fast to the wheel. She waited for him to ask her to ask him in. He didn't. "Well…umm, goodnight then," she muttered as she reached for the door handle. The sound of the old door creaking open in the silence seemed eerie, not least of all because he almost never let her open it on her own.

"Chelsea." She paused with one foot on the running board.

"Yes Jimmy?" She waited, heart hammering hard in her chest.

"If I asked you now, would you say yes?" Chelsea stared out at the darkness and then a sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm not sure," she replied quietly, and then stepped off of the running board, onto the ground and closed the truck door behind her. She didn't look back as she walked up the stairs to the front door. She heard the truck idling as she put her key in the lock and then heard it speed away as she opened the door.


	5. Chapter 5

_My bad for the tardiness on this one. It was mostly done on Sunday and then I got distracted by Eric Northman and True Blood and then I just didn't get back to it until late last night and so I added some extra bits and got further with it and so a nice long one to make up for the wait!_

**Chapter 5**

_Never stop hoping  
>Need to know where you are<br>But one thing's for sure  
>You're always in my heart<em>

I'll find you somewhere  
>I'll keep on trying<br>Until my dying day  
>I just need to know<br>Whatever has happened  
>The truth will free my soul<p>

Lost in the darkness  
>Tried to find your way home<br>I want to embrace you  
>And never let you go<p>

(lyrics from 'Somewhere' Within Temptation)

It wasn't even nine in the morning, the sun was still fairly low in the sky as she watched him lift off his hat, tip his head back and wipe his thick, muscular forearm across his forehead. It was a familiar gesture and one that had always elicited the same reaction from her since she'd barely understood what it meant to get that twisting feeling low in her gut. Chelsea stood now, her hands cupped around a steaming mug of dark, rich black coffee and stared at the man who was both obviously avoiding her and performing for her at the same time. She appreciated the vision in front of her but not in the way she had before. It didn't make her breathless and it should have. Right at this moment, however, what she did feel was guilt. Cleaning the stalls was as much her chore as his and one they'd almost always shared but now she stood apart, watching and giving him space as much as maintaining her distance.

"Your gran sent up some of those butter tarts you like." She turned and beamed up at the still burly silver haired man joining her out on the front porch carrying one of those old blue and white speckled tin cups that most people use for camping. It was his cup. It would always be his cup. "She would have come up herself but then she knew you'd think she was just fussin'," he added, taking his place beside her and looking down at where Jimmy was now sipping water, elongating his neck, the muscles in his long neck working as he swallowed. Chelsea followed the trail of the water that spilled from the corner of his mouth down across the sharp line of his jaw and onto the flat plane of his golden chest. She licked her lips. "Your gran thought you'd have been down to see her by now with some good news about you and your young man there," her grandfather added, getting right to the point just as he always did. She felt her cheeks heat as she turned away from the distracting scenery. "So the boy hasn't worked up his courage," she felt her grandfather's hand on her shoulder and then his lips on her cheek. His mustache tickled. "Well, never mind. He will. We all know that."

That was the problem, Chelsea thought to herself. It seemed like since the first day Jimmy had started working for her parents everyone had been saying what a nice looking couple they made. Of course she'd thought so too, then. She'd lived and breathed Jimmy since she was sixteen years old and too young to date, at least she had been according to her father. That hadn't stopped her tagging around after him like a loyal puppy dog and it hadn't stopped him finding reasons to come by the house for a drink of lemonade so he could sit on the porch with her while she did her homework. She'd been sure for so long now that she'd marry Jimmy and they'd live in this house and work this land together, but that had been before she'd told him he had to wait until she'd done something with her life. She just hadn't realized that doing that would change everything.

"_I _don't gramps. I don't know if this is what I want anymore." She knew he wouldn't reproach her for saying it, even though her chest tightened and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes when she said it out loud. This land had been enough for four generations of her family.

"I never thought this place was big enough to hold you CeeCee," her grandfather laid his arm across her shoulders and pulled her into the solid wall of his body. "But no matter where you go, just remember that this piece of heaven will always be in your heart, no matter who you decide to give it to." He didn't need to say more and she knew he wouldn't ask.

* * *

><p>'<em>Loser'<em>, Mike put his head in his hands and forced himself to look away from the screen on his laptop. There was no red headed CeeCee in Calgary on facebook or on any other social media dating site that he could think of. He knew because he'd been surfing the net for at least a couple of hours. '_See, told you that you should have gone after her'_, he berated himself silently as he slammed the heel of his hand against his forehead. What were the chances they'd both be in Calgary? Those chances seemed impossibly slim but now the thought of knowing she was somewhere nearby and not being able to see her had him back in the same mindset he'd been in when he'd fled DC knowing that if he hadn't he'd spend the rest of the summer going from bar to bar searching every woman's face for those incredibly green eyes.

He'd told himself over and over last night not to think about her but every time he'd closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, there she was. No matter how many times he'd forced himself awake, turned over and tried not to, she was still there with her moon pale skin and her high firm breasts that fit so perfectly in his hands and her ripe warm lips that called to him so strongly he'd woken up in the early hours of the morning knowing he had to find her but not knowing where to start and now he'd exhausted every social media site he knew of.

"Maybe you should put up some posters like for a lost cat, y'know, give a reward or something," his friend Paul suggested, sliding a couple of heavily buttered pieces of toast in front of him. His head was busting, what he wanted was hair of the dog, but he took a bite and chewed it slowly so it didn't make too much noise. He was about to take another bite but his hand paused half way up to his mouth.

"That might work," he said, mostly to himself.

"I was kidding man," Paul was looking at him the same way he did right before he did something stupid like farting into a camp fire or heading for the half pipe with a a bottle of Patron.

"Okay not signs, for real but…I could tweet like a missing person thing," Mike reached for his phone but Paul grabbed it and held it out of his reach.

"She's just a chick. Do you know how many single hot chicks there are in this city?" Growling, Mike reached for his phone but Paul just shook his head and stepped back putting himself even further away. "Just tell me why you're spending so much time on this one?" He knew how it sounded in his own head and he knew that at best Paul was going to laugh at him and at worst he was going to call the men in the white coats to take him away. He also knew damn well that if he tried to blow him off, Paul would only poke and prod him until Mike gave an answer.

Of course there was the easy answer his friend would understand.

"She's great in the sack," he replied and got the reaction he'd anticipated.

"Well why didn't you just say so? Buddy, I thought you were getting soft on me. Fuuuuck, I thought you were gonna say she's the one or some fucking thing," Paul laughed as he handed him back his phone. "Tweet away and hey, ask if she has a friend for me okay?" Mike took his phone back and gave his friend a cheerful gee shucks shrug and grin, right up until the moment Paul was past him and could no longer see his face and then Mike allowed his face to fall. He'd been telling himself that same lie all night. The only problem was that he didn't believe it anymore.

* * *

><p>"You did not buy <em>those<em> around _here_." Chelsea glanced down at the black strappy high heeled Givency sandals on her feet and shook her head. "Yeah, didn't think so. Fuck, I don't think I've ever seen you out of runners or cowboy boots in your entire life. Maybe flip flops, _once_," her friend Mandy took the empty seat across from her at the small table in Chiasso's. Chelsea was already sipping on her caramel macchiato and Mandy's mocha was waiting for her. "In fact," Mandy noted, tipping her head to one side and giving Chelsea one of those long considering looks that, had it come from a man, would normally have made her blush. As it was, Chelsea waited until Mandy's eyes met hers' again before she shook her head and laughed. "Well, shit, you look hot and _sooo_ not like you. Jesus, a couple months away and you're some big city fashionista."

"Am not," Chelsea laughed and put her coffee down and sat back. This felt normal. Nothing else had since she'd gotten back, but Sunday morning coffee with her best friend did.

"Okay, well I've never seen you in jeans that tight or…what do you call that? A hanky?" Chelsea looked down at the asymmetrical flowy halter top and shrugged. "I'm just teasin' you baby girl. You look amazing but ya gotta admit, it's not your regular boy fit jeans and dirty t-shirt."

"I guess I got out of the habit of slobbing around," Chelsea admitted with a shrug, picking up her coffee and trying to hide behind the cup.

"You mean you got away from Jim Bob and stacking horseshit and realized that you're a girl," Mandy snorted and Chelsea suddenly found herself unable to meet her friend's gaze. That came a little too close to home. "Sorry, I know you hate when I call him that." It wasn't that but Chelsea was willing to let her friend believe it was, for now. Unlike most girls she found it hard to confide in her friends about Jimmy. At first they'd all thought her relationship with the tall, handsome cowboy was very exciting but as time wore on and her friends moved from one boy to the next, they'd begun to warn her about his controlling ways. She'd never seen him that way. Last night she'd sat up for a long time mulling things over that she'd never allowed herself to even think about. "I notice you're not wearing a ring," her friend added more gently. Chelsea flexed her left hand, looked down at her empty finger and then put her hand back in her lap.

"I know he wanted to…I mean, I'm pretty sure he planned to ask me but…," she looked up and across the table at her friend and shrugged. "I guess I just need a little time to adjust to being back home." It was the second time she'd said that, but this time it was as if she was trying to convince herself.

"Well if he lets you wander around in the city looking like that he'll have a hard time keeping you to himself, that's for sure," Mandy grinned at her, trying to buoy her spirits. Chelsea smiled but that leaden weight in her stomach only got heavier.

"So, what have you been up to?"

This was why she'd come out, to hear someone else talk, to hear about someone else's life and to try and fill her head with thoughts other than the ones that were going around and around in her head like a carousel that never stopped and wouldn't let her off. She picked at the cinnamon bun in front of her and listened while her friend explained about how she was getting ready for the biggest event in Calgary's calendar year, the Stampede. She was just one of the girls that wore the shiny shirts and matching chaps and rode around the ring with a flag but it was a big deal. There'd been a time not so long ago that she herself would have been excited to be involved in something as simple as that and she smiled and nodded and asked the appropriate questions in the appropriate places but only part of her brain was paying attention.

The other part was thinking about the way Jimmy had looked in the rear view mirror of her dad's old mustang. Had he looked angry? Disappointed? Upset? She wondered what he'd do when she got back. Would he want to talk? Would he try and get her alone again or would he continue to avoid her and if he did, would she care?

"Hey, do you know Mike Green?" Chelsea blinked and then narrowed her eyes at Mandy as her friend stared down at her iPhone.

"Who?" she asked, wondering if she'd missed part of her friend's story, if this Mike person was some cowboy coming to town or someone Mandy had met U of C.

"You know, the hockey player," Mandy prompted, staring across the table at her as if she should know. Chelsea shrugged. The Flames were big, of course, and her father had taken her to a few games but she'd never showed much interest. She liked horses, not hockey.

"Did he get traded or something?" she asked, trying her best to be sociable and to stop Mandy from asking about Jimmy again.

"Nooo," Mandy wrinkled her nose and looked at her as if she were considering something and then decided against it. "He doesn't play for the Flames. I was just going to ask if you met him when you were in DC with your dad but why would you have," she laughed and then stowed her phone away. "Must have been some other red head," she added with a dismissive sigh. "Another coffee?"

* * *

><p>Mike stretched out on the table and stared up at the ceiling. He'd lost count of how many MRI's he'd had since he'd started playing hockey. In the last year alone he'd probably had ten. His knee was a mess, he didn't need a picture to know that, but the surgeon that had been recommended to the team apparently did.<p>

"Try not to move," the disembodied voice suggested and Mike yawned in reply. He knew the drill and chances were he'd probably have a nap while they did this. He shut his eyes and allowed his heart beat to slow. All he wanted to know was if he was going to have to go under the knife or if he was just going to have to deal with rehab for the entire summer. Ovie had invited him to spend some of their time off in Moscow and Nicky had invited him to Sweden. He wanted to do both trips but if he was going to get serious about his training over the summer, chances were he'd end up doing neither. The farthest he'd probably get would probably be a barbeque and beer boys' weekend in Wawota with Brooksy.

He thought about calling Brooks later, when he got back home, and asking him his opinion on finding the red headed vixen who kept invading his thoughts. The first thing Brooks would do was give him shit for letting her leave the club without at the very least getting her digits, he knew that. The big forward would sigh and shake his head and say something like '_Greener, you have no game'_. Thinking about it made Mike smile.

Brooks definitely had a way with the ladies. Even when they were attached, even if they had their guy in the room with them Mike had seen Brooks work his magic and take a chick right from under the nose of her boyfriend. The man was smooth. There was no doubt about that. Mike wasn't. The most he could hope for was that some girl would feel sorry for him, buy the whole Eeyore act and take pity on him long enough for him to use his minor skills to get into their pants. Kind of like he had with CeeCee.

The name still didn't seem right. Even as he rolled it over in his mouth Mike somehow knew that it couldn't be her name. It had to be some kind of pet name. Not one he'd ever use for her, he thought with a smile. He'd call her sexy bitch or hot stuff, not CeeCee.

"Ummm Mr. Green, if we can just get you to relax?" Mike cursed under his breath as he opened his eyes and stared down his body at the tent his dick was making of his sweat pants.

"Sorry," he called and shut his eyes again and thought about wing sauce on Boudreau's cheek, the Speedos Ovie wore when they went swimming at a hotel pool, the way that Brooksy would pick up the bone from a t-bone steak and gnaw at it right in the middle of a restaurant and eventually the thoughts of his red headed vixen were shuffled to the back of his mind.

* * *

><p>As she turned up the drive she could see Popcorn saddled and tied up outside the barn as if she were waiting for her. The mare's ears pricked up as the Mustang pulled up outside the house and as Chelsea stepped out of the car she was met with a whinny of greeting. Guilt churned in her stomach. She'd been back two days and hadn't taken her out. This was probably Jimmy's not so subtle way of reminding her of her obligations and responsibilities.<p>

Glancing towards the lower paddock she could see him in the middle of the ring holding one end of a training harness, giving a lesson. He looked up towards her and reached up to touch the brim of his hat. So it _had_ definitely been his idea.

"Let me just change into my boots," she whispered, pressing her lips to the middle of the blaze on the mare's forehead, and her jeans, she thought as she mounted the stairs. Her boots were sitting near the door on some newspaper, cleaned. Chelsea made a face. "Okay, I get it," she cursed under her breath and dropped into one of the kitchen chairs to pull off her sandals. She was still silently cursing him and thinking up colourful things to call him when he pulled open the screen door. She stared at his dusty boots, the pale, faded denim jeans with one knee blown out and finally up to the sweat soaked white wife beater that tugged across his chest, reminding her that there was lean solid muscles beneath.

"If you wait a few minutes I'll come with you," he offered. Chelsea made a face and went back to pulling on her boots.

"I think I'd rather be on my own," she mumbled. She expected him to insist but only a long drawn out silence surrounded her, shortly followed by the slamming of the screen door. Chelsea winced. She really didn't want to hurt him but it seemed as if she couldn't help doing it.

Stomping out of the door she walked down to the barn and started to untie the mare who flicked her tail and shook her head with impatience. Chelsea stroked her neck and then slid the reins over her head and put her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over. '_Should definitely have changed my jeans'_ she winced as the slim fitting denim dug in as her legs settled around the mare's girth.

"Go easy on me girl," she whispered, laying another pat on Popcorn's neck as she turned her towards the upper pastures. She was sure she could feel Jimmy's eyes on her back, but didn't turn to look. She needed some space. She needed some air. The warm wind lifted her hair but it lifted the light flowing fabric of her top too. Chelsea went to tug it down when she felt the mare shy. "Hey girl I said take it easy, we're not galloping today," she mumbled as she tried to tug in the loose, uneven edges of her top into her jeans with one hand while holding the reins with another. Popcorn shook her head and stamped. "Hooo baby, just give me a minute," Chelsea tried to sound soothing and not impatient as she turned to try and tuck in the back of her shirt. That's when the horse reared and she saw the snake.

'_Stupid horse'_, Chelsea thought as she tried to hold on with her knees as she felt the reins slip from her fingers, '_it's only a bullsnake'_. Popcorn reared again and bellowed and Chelsea felt herself slipping. She grabbed for the mare's mane and missed and the next thing she knew her feet were in the air and she was sliding backwards towards the ground.

* * *

><p>Mike had six messages by the time he got out of the MRI. Three of them were from Paul asking sarcastically if he'd had any luck with his lost sex kitten ad on twitter. He thought about taking a picture of himself flipping the bird and texting it back but then decided that would require too much effort.<p>

Actually he was feeling pretty stupid about his twitter post now. If she was out there, reading it, she was probably laughing at him. He knew damn well that whenever he worked up the courage to check it all of the guys from his team and no doubt a bunch of guys from other teams would no doubt be giving him a hard time about it. He'd probably still be hearing about it by the time training camp rolled around.

One of the other messages was from his agent. That one he should probably return he thought as he strode through the patient waiting area, though he was reluctant to. After the season he'd had, he knew the chances of his being moved were probably high. That didn't mean he wanted to go, though there had been some days through that losing streak that he would have had a different attitude towards being traded. Still, he liked most of the guys and when they were winning they were good to be around and even Boudreau wasn't the worst coach he'd ever had.

He had just hit the speed dial button for his agent and was putting the phone to his ear when he saw the blood red orange colour of her hair. He stopped in his tracks, slowly lowered the phone and hit the end button.

'_Couldn't be'_ he thought as he backed up a few steps until he could see her profile. He knew those lips. He could already taste them. Her eyes were downcast so that her long eyelashes fell on the soft rounds of her cheeks, cheeks that had a sprinkling of light freckles on them. '_No fucking way'_, he thought as his feet carried him forward, towards her as if she was the light at the end of a tunnel and he had no choice but to follow the light.

"You're hurt," he said as he loomed above her. She was holding her arm between her elbow and her wrist. There were clean trails that tears had made through the dust on her face but she was stubbornly refusing to cry now.

"I'm fine. It's a sprain. He's just being cautious," she replied with a quick and, Mike thought, angry glance in the direction of that praying mantis in his stupid straw cowboy hat. The guy was a cartoon.

"Here, let me see," Mike took the empty seat next to her and reached for her arm. She stared down at his hand like it might sprout tentacles or something but when he slid his hand gingerly beneath where hers' was, she let go. '_Shit'_ he cursed under his breath as he nearly jumped out of the chair and let go of her arm all at the same time. It was only his years of refusing to let it show when he was hurt that kept him glued where he was with her arm cradled gently in his hand. His heart began to hammer in his chest the moment he touched her and he could already feel the sweat breaking out across his forehead. "You scraped it pretty good," he noted, gently rotating her arm while watching her facial expression out of the corner of his eye. She didn't wince. That was a good sign. "Banged it pretty hard too," he added as he carefully bent her hand down and then up again, still watching her full, sensuous mouth for signs of pain. She clenched her teeth when he pressed her hand in but that was all. She was probably right about the sprain. Still, he felt carefully along her wrist, probably pressing a little harder than he had to but he only knew about broken bones from having his own, from the way they crunched when you pushed on them and the way doing that made you feel like you were going to puke and pass out all at the same time.

She did neither. In fact, as he looked up at her, those amazingly leaf green eyes stared into his filled with confusion and…god please let him be right, something deeper, something that looked almost like the longing he felt in his heart.

"I told you I'm fine. He's just being overprotective," she snapped all of a sudden, pulling her arm back and cradling it in her other arm. She shot a look towards where her cowboy boyfriend was still filling out forms on her behalf. The way the nurses were looking at him it was obvious they thought that he was the epitome of white knight chivalry. Mike didn't see it quite that way.

"Is he always an overbearing ape?" he asked and watched as the corner of her mouth twitched, like maybe she wanted to smile but got it under control, just in time.

"It's kind of part of his job to look after me," she muttered, those pretty jewel like eyes downcast. What was that cheesy fucking line from that stupid dancing movie, Mike thought as he watched her shoulders hunch and her body roll in on its' self. '_Nobody puts baby in a corner_'. Yeah that was how he felt as he fought the urge to reach for her, to grab her chin in his big meat claw and make her look at him.

"Kind of like being _kind of_ engaged?" he asked, doing his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Surly Mike didn't work well with women. He'd been told that before. He was doing his best to be the good Mike now, the concerned friend sort of Mike. She glanced up at him and then back down at her arm. He wanted to ask if that Stetson wearing giant had done this to her but swallowed the question. It was a question that ornery Mike would ask.

"We have a…I guess you'd call it an understanding," she replied quietly. Mike felt his entire face screw up into a frown.

"What? You mean like an arranged marriage?" She didn't answer, just kept staring down at her arm. He knew he should leave it, let it go, but he couldn't. "What time machine did he step out of?" he asked, glancing over at Mr. tall and tanned who was still doing his golly gee shucks routine with the nurses who were eating it up like chocolate pudding. Mike felt the same way watching him as he did watching Crosby do an interview. He wanted to punch something or in this case _someone._

"What's it got to do with you anyway?" she asked and Mike was willing to bet that she had tried to sound angry but it didn't come off that way. She just sounded tired. Tired of their little arrangement? Mike took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet.

"I bet he doesn't know about us." She got very still and then she turned those green eyes on him and he thought that the look she gave him was the same one a jaguar gave its prey right before it pounced.

"_What_ us?" He heard the threat and chose to ignore it. The same way that sometimes he knew he was gonna get hit and maybe take a beating for doing something out on the ice but he did it anyway.

"Normally I'd be the first one to say let sleeping dogs lie but in this case I'm willing to give them a little kick. He's a prick and you don't look happy…"

"You don't know anything about him," she snapped back defensively but Mike got the feeling that she was defending herself the same way an injured cat will hiss and bite when it's hurt. All he had to do was be a little gentle and move with caution.

"I'm a guy and I know guys like him and I'm telling he's an a-one prick that can't wait for you to be barefoot and pregnant and I know you're gonna say I don't know you but…I don't think that's what you want." He saw her get still again, watched her watch her boyfriend from beneath her lashes and then hang her head.

"You were supposed to stay in D.C.," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, so were you, but I'm not a big believer in coincidences. I think things happen for a reason and if we're gonna keep runnin' into each other like this I think someone's trying to tell us something, don't you?" His heart stopped beating and he held his breath while he waited for her to answer. She kept watching Cowboy Bob for a long time and then her lips parted.

"So what's your plan, Mike?" she asked without so much as glancing in his direction.

"I say we blow this popsicle stand, right now, you and me."


	6. Chapter 6

_Thought I was doing fine bout to get you off my mind  
>I see you face and then I'm wrapped around your pretty little finger again<em>

_I see no good reason still I'm tangled in your charms  
>My God you're smiling you catch my eyes<br>My heart is pounding deep inside_

(Lyrics from 'Wrapped' Kelly Willis)

**Chapter 6**

It had been a charged and nervous silence that had filled his big black SUV as the man she didn't know, but felt dangerously attracted to, drove her to his home where he was now busy pulling ice packs from his freezer as if he'd been expecting trouble.

"Boy Scout?" she asked as he carefully draped a tea towel over her forearm before arranging the icepacks from her wrist to her elbow. He met her gaze quizzically. "Always prepared?" she added, trying to picture the slightly scruffy unkempt man in front of her in a boy scout's uniform. The vision made her smile.

"Uh, no. I guess you could say I'm just accident prone," he muttered, his gaze slipping from hers' as if he wasn't quite telling the truth. Chelsea decided to leave that alone, for now, as she bit down on her bottom lip. She'd almost retorted that she remembered him being very coordinated but she didn't want to bring that up now and not just because her wrist was throbbing. The fact that he hadn't tried to jump her the minute they were behind closed doors had earned him brownie points and besides that, if she had sex with him again that would make what they'd done more than a one night stand and then she'd have to tell Jimmy and that was a conversation she wasn't sure she was ready to have. "Can I…do you want something to drink?" he asked as if he'd just realized that he had a guest in the house, or maybe it was because of the charged silence that had suddenly filled the room. She watched him pull open the fridge door to reveal mostly empty shelves, apart from some a few cans of beer, a six pack of Red Bull and some pre-packaged geen Jello.

"Some ice water would be great," she replied, unable to hide her grin. It was comforting to see that he was a typical guy right down to having to fish a clean glass out of the dishwasher and then try to decide whether to pour water from the Brita in the fridge or from the tap.

"I'm not sure when I last changed this," he explained sheepishly as he eyed the Brita jug suspiciously and then turned to the tap. She watched as the threadbare t-shirt he was wearing strain as his biceps flexed and her head swam as her gaze focused on his fingers as he slid the glass in front of her. He had thick fingers. Her body remembered them and the walls of her pussy clenched as if she could feel them working inside of her. Chelsea stared at the ice in the glass and thought about being cold as she tried to lower the sudden spike in body temperature she was experiencing.

"So, is _this_ place yours?" she asked, looking around, looking at anything but him as gulped the cool water. The house was modern and, for the most part clean, but unadorned, almost as if he'd just moved in. All of the furniture had a new, unused feel to it. Nothing said well loved, well used.

"Yeah, but I'm not here much," he replied as if he could read her mind. Chelsea put the ice packs aside and covered them with the towel and then rested her arm on top of them. "Okay I just gotta ask, did that guy…did he do that to you?" Chelsea spun in her chair, knocking the ice packs to the floor and gaped at him.

"I _fell_ off my horse," she snarled and it wasn't Jimmy she was defending. "If any man so much as raised a hand to me…it would be the last time he'd do it," she added turning back and reaching down for one of the ice packs. He'd beaten her to it and as their fingers brushed, she was sure she got a shock that made her entire arm tingle.

"I just hate guys that pick on someone…," he began hesitantly, his hand still partially covering hers as he slowly, tentatively looked up into her eyes, "smaller than them." If he'd said weaker she would have argued. The way his mouth turned up at the corners told her he had been about to and thought better of it. It made her like him even more. It also made her want to touch his face and made her wonder if the at least three days growth on his cheeks would burn her cheeks if she kissed him and that made her contemplate the feeling of all that stubble brushing against even more tender areas and those thoughts made her blush. She immediately tried to turn her face away but his reflexes were quick and he caught her cheek in his hand and then his mouth came crashing down over hers'.

* * *

><p>He hadn't meant to kiss her. That had not been part of the plan. If there had been a plan it was to give her space, to be the good guy, to make her feel safe. But the minute he'd seen the heat of desire flood her gaze Mike had forgotten about being good or caring about her space. All he'd been able to think about was her lips, her mouth and her tongue.<p>

She didn't hesitate either. Her lips moved beneath his and her tongue was the first to flick out, sliding hesitantly over his bottom lip while her hands moved more decisively into his hair, grabbing handfuls and pulling his mouth harder onto hers'.

This position was no good for his knee. It complained, shooting a sharp stabbing pain up into his thigh as he knelt at her feet, holding onto her knees, not sure if he should venture farther, waiting for her signal. He could put up with the pain, he decided, if she'd let him into the skin tight jeans that had been teasing him since he'd seen her at the hospital.

"Does that hurt your wrist?" he asked as she dug her fingers into his shoulder.

"I'll live," she replied hoarsely, her gaze focused on his mouth before she kissed him again, a searing, mind blowing, tongue twisting kiss that brought him to full attention, made his balls ache and erased all his hopes for trying to be a gentleman. He felt her fingers dig into his t-shirt and realized she was trying to literally tear it off of his body. He admired her hootzpah but doubted her strength.

"Let me," he reached down to pull his own t-shirt off but her hands wouldn't budge. His shirt was bunched in her hands and she was sliding close to the edge of the chair, her legs wrapping around his back. They were going to do it on his kitchen floor. Not that there was anything wrong with that Mike thought as she literally wrapped herself around him, he hadn't eaten there in he couldn't remember how long and it was kind of hot that she wanted him as much as he wanted her but as he slid backwards and down, she put out a hand to steady their descent and let out a squeak as her hand pushed against the cupboard door at his back. "That hurt," he said aloud and unnecessarily as she yanked her arm back and clutched it to her chest. "I have a thing…a wrap…upstairs," he gestured, glancing down apologetically at his now very hard and almost painful erection as he scrambled to his feet and headed out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He heard her mutter under her breath, but she followed him up the stairs and into the bathroom where he dug out his first aid kit and pulled out an elastic bandage that he was happy to find still had those little metal clips attached to it. He was always losing those. "Arm," he said, holding his hand out for hers'. She looked down at his hands and then up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Boy Scout." The way her mouth turned up at the corner as she looked up at him made him want to pick her up, put her on the sink and kiss her until he couldn't breathe. He shook that thought off, took her hand in his and began to roll the wrap behind her thumb. Her hand looked so small in his, so fragile. He felt clumsy and protective all at the same time.

"Too tight?" he asked as he positioned the clips in place. She flexed her fingers and he had to bite back a groan. She shook her head, carefully, gingerly rotating her arm while still leaving it in his hands. They both were left staring at her arm, unable or unwilling to face the reality that the heated moment had passed and now they were both left waiting for the other one to make a move.

Mike ran his thumb over the back of her knuckles. He didn't want to hurt her, not even by accident, but he did want to touch her and keep touching her. Most of all he didn't want to let go.

He was concentrating so hard on how small and fragile each one of her fingers was that he didn't realize that her body had swayed closer to his until he felt the fingers on her other hand sliding up beneath his shirt along his waist and around his back. He looked down and her leaf green eyes were looking up into his. It was the only invitation he needed. Mike captured her mouth with his and kissed her gently. He couldn't remember when or if it had ever happened before but this chaste kiss and the gentle press of her body into his side had sent a rush of blood south and he could feel her smile as she pressed her thigh against his eager hard on.

* * *

><p>Her hand slid down the back of his sweat pants and grabbed a handful off butt cheek as she pulled his body against hers' to let him know that she was as happy about being near him as he obviously was about being near her. He was so cute. The honest to goodness look of concern on his face had made her want him even more than she had when he'd reminded her how soft his lips were and how wide his shoulders.<p>

"Not…not here," he muttered, reaching back to grab her good hand and dragging her behind him down the hall and kicking open a door to a room that looked like it belonged in a college dorm. He muttered some kind of apology that sounded like 'sorry for the mess' but for the same reason that she found his it oddly comforting that he wasn't smooth or self confident, she liked seeing the overflowing laundry hamper and the white tube socks peeking out of a drawer. It made her feel like it was okay to be less than perfect, made her wrapped arm seem to fit in somehow.

She watched him grab a handful of folded t-shirts and toss them onto the floor followed by several pairs of jeans and hid a giggle behind her hand. She couldn't imagine Jimmy ever treating his clothes that way but oddly it helped her to relax when he turned back towards her wearing an apologetic and anxious expression, as if there was a chance she'd run away screaming. She reached back to untie her halter top and found that the way he'd wrapped her arm made it awkward but just that small gesture was enough to wipe the almost stricken look from his face and then the full solid mass of him was behind her, working on the knot and then she felt both of his hands come around to cup her breasts.

He bears the weight of them in his hands like they're something precious, ancient and breakable. She feels his breath on her cheek as he peeks around to look down at them; such a boy. Wanting to reward him somehow, she snakes her bad arm up and over his shoulder and he doesn't need more than the smallest hint and her lips turned up towards his to kiss her. It's awkward, maybe not the best angle or the best kiss but it's tender and warm and supplies a belly deep satisfaction before his thumbs roll over her nipples, flicking them, bringing them immediately to life.

He was hard against the small of her back but he even though she could picture it, him bending her over the bed and having her right here, right now, he didn't seem to be in any hurry. He kissed the back of her neck, her shoulders and dug his teeth into the curve of her neck, making her moan out loud. Reaching back with her good hand, Chelsea slid her hand up the length of him and then gave the head a gentle squeeze. He moaned from somewhere deep in his chest, a raw rumbling sound that soaked her panties. His hands moved down to her jeans, his fingers making short work of the brass button and fly but then he was stuck.

"How do you even get these things on?" he asked, grabbing a hold of the only pieces of fabric not still almost attached to her skin and uselessly tugging.

"With some difficulty," she admitted with a grin, detaching herself from him and sitting on the edge of his unmade bed. He dropped to his knees in front of her and she couldn't help but smile. She wasn't used to being in charge and she liked that he let her.

He tugged each of her dust encrusted boots off and tossed them over his shoulders. She heard them hit the floor somewhere behind him and the memory of them placed so carefully on that square of newspaper came unbidden into her consciousness. Jimmy would never treat snakeskin boots that carelessly and for once, she didn't care.

Not that she had time to. One minute she was looking down at his hunched form in front of her and the next thing she was on her back, her legs in the air and Mike was tugging at the ankles of her jeans.

"That's not going to work," she cried out, shoving the snug denim down over her hips and wiggling like a trout in the bottom of a boat.

"I have scissors," he said seriously, looking around the disaster of his room.

"No!" she cried, pushing the tough fabric down and kicking it off at the same time. "These jeans cost me more than two hundred dollars. You are not cutting them up."

"I'll buy you another pair," he growled, grabbing what she'd managed to get over her feet and giving an unholy tug that nearly pulled her off of the bed altogether. She let out a squeal of surprise and reached back to grab the edge of the mattress, digging her nails in while he tugged one more time, freeing her from her skinny jeans and leaving her lying in front of him in nothing a white cotton g-string and a smile.

He stared down at her, wearing that same expression on his face that she remembered from D.C., like he'd never seen a naked woman before, like maybe he was gonna cum in his pants. It almost made her laugh except that he was so damn cute when he did it.

"Oh god…please say I have condoms," he muttered suddenly, reaching over to wrench the drawer entirely free from the nightstand and dumping its entire contents on the side of the bed. Chelsea clapped her hands over her mouth but could barely muffle the giggle that erupted as she watched him dig through well thumbed copies of Penthouse and the Hockey News, even tossing aside a pair of frilly purple lace panties until he came up with two small foil squares and turned to her wearing a triumphant and very boyish grin.

"Lucky me," she laughed as he swept the rest of the debris onto the floor, kicked aside the drawer and dove onto the bed.

* * *

><p>He loved to make her laugh. He wasn't the prankster on the team, though he was often found in the middle of more elaborate jokes, but he loved to see her smile and her laugh was like church bells Sunday morning, a church he would definitely drag his sorry ass out of bed to attend if it meant that he could have this in his bed every night he thought as knelt over her and dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She pressed her hands against his stomach and stopped him from pulling his own pants down. Instead he damn near came just watching her roll the thick grey cotton down over his hips and then, oh so carefully, pulling it out and over his rock hard erection.<p>

When his cock bounced in front of her and she licked her lips he groaned. If she even breathed on him he was going to blow his load. He bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough to taste the coppery tang of his own blood, as she curled her fingers around his base and opened her sweet mouth and began to guide him along her tongue and deep into the wet, warm heaven of her mouth.

He wanted to tell her to stop. A thousand curse words seemed to slip from his lips as she wrapped her tongue around his head and licked the pre-cum as if his cock was made of rich chocolate gelato that she wanted to take her time and savor. His blood pounded in his ears as he gripped the headboard and willed himself to remain still while her lips and tongue explored every inch of him. He wanted to grab her fiery red hair and dig his fingers into it and force her mouth all the way over him. He wanted to fuck her pretty mouth. If it had been any woman but this in his bed, he would have done it to. But with her he was overcome by the need to be gentle, to be patient and so he nearly broke the headboard into splinters when she rolled those emerald green eyes up at him and slid her hand down and cupped his balls while she sucked hard on his knob.

"Sstop," he hissed, feeling his balls pulling up tight. Somehow she smiled around his cock and shook her head. If her sweet mouth hadn't been full, he was almost sure she said no. As it was it came out 'pnffff' and then her mouth slid, very slowly, down his full length until he could feel the back of her throat tightening around his head. "Daaammmmn!" he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight and pounding his fist against the wall. He fought not to cum and she fought right back, digging her fingernails into his balls and urging him, very gently to slide down into her throat until silvery tears dangled from the edges of her eyes.

Mike was breathing hard in the way he'd been taught to do when he'd been crunched into the boards and couldn't breathe. This was just like that, right down to seeing stars. He clenched his teeth. He tried counting back from one hundred. He even tried to think about that awkward drunken threesome he'd had with Ovie one night in Buffalo, but none of it stopped him from emptying his sac into her throat as his head tipped back and a war cry erupted from his throat.

By the time he'd regained his senses she was lying there, propped up by the pillows, licking her fingers like she didn't want to miss a drop. He wasn't sure, but Mike didn't think he'd ever seen anything sexier in his life.

"You didn't have to do that you know," he offered, reaching for her, pulling her into him, sliding his hand down to the small of her back and wrapping a leg over both of hers in case she got any ideas about leaving. She smiled and licked her lips like she was looking for one last drop.

"Are you kidding? I've always wanted to do that," she purred and lifted her mouth up as an offering to him. He took it, ignoring his own salty aftertaste on her tongue. Most women he had been with would take a pearl necklace rather than swallow. He'd even heard of girls spitting it out afterwards. He had never, in all of the puck bunnies that had been in this bed, had a girl licking her lips like he tasted like strawberries and clotted crème.

"Then he's even a bigger fucking douchebag than I thought," he whispered against the curve of her neck. It was a good damn thing she couldn't see his face. He hated thinking about that scarecrow cowboy touching her, claiming her the way he wanted to. His cock began to twitch at the thought of it, and he rolled her beneath him, pinning her smaller, slighter body with his. She looked up at him with those big, green eyes and a smile that was pure trust. His heart stopped beating, just for a minute. He hadn't earned that look, but he wanted to. "What's your name?" he asked as his body hovered over hers'.

"Chelsea." Mike tasted the name on his tongue. It was better than CeeCee but he could see where that came from now, though he decided that he still didn't like it, would never use it.

"Hand me one of those, Chelsea," he eyed the condoms sitting on the edge of the bed and wondered if there was anyone he could call to bring him more. He didn't plan on her leaving. Not for a long while.

* * *

><p>She'd been a little drunk, a little more bold the last time he had moved above her like this. She'd convinced herself that it had been the tequila and her playing a part that had made her think he did things to her that made her feel like she was floating. But as he bent his head to suckle at her breast and slid between her thighs, he fit into her like a key into a lock and every nerve ending in her body seemed to light up all at once until she felt like a ball of energy, a pulsating glow as if she was being heated from within.<p>

It wasn't like this with Jimmy. Not that it wasn't good with him, but this was just…different. With Jimmy she'd never felt free. He had so many rules, most of which had to do with him being in control. Plus with Jimmy it almost always felt like he was doing her the favor. With Mike it was the other way around. With Mike she didn't feel like her breasts were too small or skin too pale and as he reached between them and slid his fingers along her clit she didn't worry, even for a single second that it wasn't at all ladylike to curse like a real cowboy.

"That's it babe," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, "cum for me. I want to feel you squeezing my dick." Her body shuddered as he stroked her clit and drove deep into her at the same time. Jimmy didn't talk like that. He was so intense, like he wanted to do it just right, as if there was some perfect way of doing it, some ascribed period of time it was supposed to take which also meant that if she didn't have an orgasm and he did that it was just too bad, maybe next time, but it was once he was done it was over. "God you feel good," he whispered, his voice croaking as if he was on the edge and was holding out for her and she _was_ close. He probably said that to all the girls and he had to have girls. He couldn't have got to be this good and not have had a line-up of co-eds in this bed, despite his little boy sad clown face.

Then she wasn't as close and didn't want to be in this bed anymore. She felt his lips on her cheek and turned her head. Her body went still and she shut her eyes tight as she felt tears of mortification stinging in her eyes.

"Chels?" He hovered above her and then she felt his hands cup her face. "What just happened?" His fingers dug into her face, not enough to hurt but enough that she knew he was trying to get her attention. "Where are you?" She shook her head but he waited, patiently, and she could feel him staring at her. Opening her eyes she found his dark eyes looking down into hers.

"I don't want to be barefoot and pregnant."


	7. Chapter 7

_When you're overwhelmed and you've lost your breath  
>When the space between the things you know is blurry nonetheless.<br>When you try to speak but you make no sound  
>And the words you want are out of reach but they've never been so loud<br>__  
>If your heart wears thin I will hold you up<br>And I will hide you when it gets too much  
>I'll be right beside you<br>I am right be right beside you_

I will stay.  
>Nobody will break you.<p>

Trust in me, trust in me.  
>Don't pull away<br>Trust in me, trust in me.  
>I'm just trying to keep this together, because I could do worse and you could do better<p>

(Lyrics from 'Beside You' by Marianas Trench)

**Chapter 7**

The living room was not a part of the house Mike had had much use for. In fact he treated his house in Calgary a lot like a hotel or, as his mother called it, a frat house. Friends came to stay but most of the activities he preferred in the summer months were outdoor pursuits. The result was that other than the bedrooms and bathrooms, most of this house had a distinctly unlived in look and the fireplace had never, _ever_ been used even though there had been a pile of wood and newspaper sitting in it since the day he'd moved in. Still, Mike thought as he checked that the chimney flue was open, this was better than staying in the bedroom. If they'd stayed there, no matter how much he tried to be a good guy, he wasn't going to be able to lie there next to a very beautiful and very naked girl and listen to her talk and actually _hear_ anything she said.

She, Chelsea, was sitting wrapped in a sheet from the bed on top of the quilt he'd dragged out here. He glanced at her now but she was still as silent as she'd been when he'd rolled off of her and suggested they take a break. That alone, he thought, should earn him a major amount of brownie points. He could think of a few guys, like Ovie and probably Brooks who would have powered through and worried about her feelings afterwards. Fucking Chelsea after she'd left the room mentally didn't strike Mike as the kind of thing he felt comfortable doing, which is how they'd ended up in the living room.

Mike poked at the logs as the paper under them began to burn. God knows it was warm enough that he didn't need a fire but right at this moment, he was glad to have something to do with his hands. What he wanted to do was shake her. No, what he wanted to do was ask her what the deal was with her and that leggy cowboy, who, Mike figured had to be a good ten years her senior and if she was engaged what was she doing in his bed?

The guy obviously made her unhappy, Mike had decided as he poked a log further into the flames, imagining it was the tall blonde with the high cheekbones. He had the overwhelming urge to ask her if she loved the guy but when he opened his mouth to give voice to the question, a strange sensation in his chest stopped him. He put his hand over his heart and grimaced.

"What the fu...?"

"I just always thought I would, y'know?" she began, her voice muffled. He turned to look at her, at the way her chin rested on the tops of her knees as she hugged them to her chest. She glanced up at him and the barest shadow of a smile flitted across her features. "Since I was a teenager I've been planning my wedding, like girls do," she added with shy smile and a shrug, "and it's always been with him. But now...I don't know," she said wistfully, her jaw working as if she were chewing on the thought. She was probably grinding her teeth, Mike knew _he_ was.

"Can I ask a question?" He poked at the logs, not because the fire needed it but because it felt like he had to do something with his hands other than touch her, which is what he really wanted to do. She didn't answer but he took her silence for agreement and ploughed ahead. "What's so special about the guy anyway?" It wasn't exactly the question he wanted to ask but it was close, as close as he could give voice too without that constriction in his chest starting up.

"Jimmy?" It sounded like she smiled when she said his name. Mike didn't look back to see if he was right. He didn't want to be right. "Oh...lots of things," she replied softly. His fingers tightened around the wrought iron bar. "Less than I used to think though," she added and this time Mike did turn to see a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her full mouth that was still swollen from his kisses. Her emerald green eyes met his just for a moment and then she was back to staring at her toes, which she wiggled as she rocked in place. "It's just…I don't know, I guess it's kinda hard to explain."

The part of Mike's brain that made decisions out on the ice, that was trained to assess the whole ice surface and to weigh carefully the pros and cons of every choice before committing to an action knew that asking any more questions was only picking at an open wound told him that she'd just blocked the passing lane. The kid that still lived inside of him that liked to race around, was still impressed by his slap shot and sometimes made dumb decisions decided that he could still make the pass. The man inside of him that was just beginning to realize that he wanted this woman for himself decided that even if the chances were slim, he had to try.

"So…are you in love with the guy or what?" He looked over at her, at the way her nearly crimson curls turned copper by the light of the flames and her jade green eyes flashed when she looked up at him. He held his breath.

"I used to think so. Right now…I'm not so sure."

* * *

><p>'<em>What am I doing<em>?' she asked herself as she watched the man sitting a little too near the fire fight the urge to jump her right there and then. She could see it in the way he had suddenly gone very still, his entire body as tense as a bow string pulled taught right before it's fired and the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he stared at her as if she had just turned into a big juicy t-bone steak right off the grill.

'_I shouldn't'_, she told herself the same way that you do when you drool over a piece of chocolate cake you know that you shouldn't have, but want all the more because it's forbidden. He was like that, like breaking a diet and indulging in the richest, the most calorie laden and most addictive desert and sneaking off with it to your room so as not to share it with anyone.

But being taboo wasn't the only reason that had Chelsea's blood growing distinctly warmer by the minute. Being with him was also like being a completely different person. A person, she had very suddenly realized that she actually wanted to be. It was like CeeCee was this little girl who had sugar plum fairy dreams about marriage and forever, about wedding dresses that looked like overgrown meringues and who followed Jimmy around like an obedient puppy. She wanted to be the Chelsea she was when she was with _this_ man, a woman who made her own decisions and didn't worry about what other people thought or wanted. She liked how it felt to be this woman and not just for one night.

'_You're going to regret it'_, she warned herself as she got up, the sheet she'd stripped off of his bed that held the warm musky scent of 'boy' still wrapped around her, and crossed the imaginary line that he was being so careful not to. Opening the sheet she enveloped him with it as she straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice already made husky by desire, his pupils large and dark. She watched his tongue sweep out and wet his full lower lip. She stared at his mouth and nodded. "But what about…?" she didn't let him finish the question, pressing her mouth down over his in reply. She didn't want to think about Jimmy. Not tonight, maybe not anymore.

The kiss was warm and syrupy, like the feeling you get when you first put a forkful of plump fluffy syrup and butter laden pancakes in your mouth; sweet and satisfying and left her wanting more.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" she whispered coquettishly against his cheek as he kissed his way along her jaw and down to her neck. He got very still, his lips just hovering over her shoulder. For one, long, agonizing moment she thought she'd done the wrong thing, said the wrong words and ruined the entire game, and then he slowly raised his head and his dark, simmering gaze met hers'.

"You're gonna dump him?" he asked without even as a single hint of laughter in either his voice or his eyes. Reaching up, Chelsea ran her fingers through his thick mop of dark hair.

"That depends," she replied, letting her gaze slowly and flirtatiously make its way back to his, "on what your answer is." She waited for his full mouth to twitch and then begin to turn up into the boyish smile he often wore when he looked at her but his gaze remained steely until she was almost certain that he was about to say something that was going to make her cry and then he reached up and cupped her cheek and his dark eyes softened.

"You should just dump him, _period_." It wasn't exactly a declaration of love or even the answer to her question but his heart, she decided, was definitely in the right place. She leaned in to kiss him but he leaned back. "Promise me you will kick that dirt bag cowpoke to the curb," he insisted, his expression deadly serious. She searched his gaze but couldn't find even the smallest spark that would tell her that he was kidding. "Say it," he insisted, his tone still serious but his gaze falling to her lips like he wanted to kiss her, was thinking about kissing her as much as she wanted him to.

"Okay," she replied, moving her mouth closer to his but his thumb was suddenly there, suddenly pressed against her mouth and he was shaking his head.

"Nope, not good enough, I don't think you mean it." His voice was low and made her stomach quiver and her pussy clench and then he looked up at her and the expression in his eyes made her draw a mouthful of air sharply between her teeth.

* * *

><p>He could feel her heat through his sweat pants and he badly wanted to slide his dick back into her warm, tight wet core but he couldn't and not just because of the barrier of the thick cotton between them either. Something had changed, definitely in him and maybe, if he was really lucky, in her too.<p>

He liked this woman, a lot. He hadn't let himself fall for a chick in a long time. It messed with his head and fucked up his game and he'd been fucking that up enough himself lately he hadn't needed anyone else's help to do that. He was falling for Chelsea though and he knew, by the way his chest got tight every time he looked at her and the way, right now when she was trying to be cute and playful that he wanted to punish her and make her take him seriously that he could fall hard and completely and as much as that scared the living shit out of him, he knew that he wanted to fall for her. Even if she broke his heart, he decided as he dropped the last of the walls defending his heart and let her see how serious he was.

"I've seen men like him treat women like that, like the way he talks to you. Guys like that treat women like they don't have a mind or thoughts and feelings of their own. Don't get me wrong, sometimes they deserve it. You don't. I know you were kidding before...about me being your boyfriend but...I wouldn't treat you like that; ever." There it was. He'd put his heart out there for her to stamp on and Mike could hardly breathe as he watched those cat's eyes of hers search his face. She was waiting for him to crack, to smile and laugh and joke around and he could of, maybe before he'd seen inside of her to that fiery woman who wasn't ready to be tied down.

He wanted to be the one to set her free. It was like holding a bird in your hands. He could feel her heart beating wildly, could sense her desire to spread her wings and catch the air beneath them and sail on the currents of the wind. At the same time he could practically smell her fear, could see it in the fine beads of sweat on upper lip and could feel it in the way her arms trembled as she clung to him. All he had to do was open his hands and she would have the choice; stay in his hands or fly.

He wanted to tell her to fly, but the choice was hers' and hers' alone.


	8. Chapter 8

_I need someone to stand by me  
>Stand by me, just one time.<br>I hope somebody stands by me  
>Stands by me, just one time<br>I don't understand, it's slipping through these hands  
>I think by now I know when to let go<br>All I know is here I am baby  
>Won't you stand by me?<em>

_(lyrics from 'Someone Stand by Me' Stevie Nicks)_

**Chapter 8**

She wasn't surprised that he'd been willing to let her go, especially after she'd said she wanted to do this before she lost her nerve. What did surprise her was that he insisted on taking her himself and furthermore that when they'd headed back to the garage that he'd handed her a helmet.

There was something in it, Chelsea decided as she tipped her head back and let the wind blast her face. Maybe he'd known it would help to clear her head or maybe he just hadn't wanted to talk, but she decided she liked being on the back of a bike, liked having her arms around his strong solid core, even if it was only a moped.

A fresh onset of giggling plagued her as she recalled the kicked puppy look he'd made when she'd laughed at his bright red scooter and the matching red scarf he'd tied around his neck as he settled himself on the front of the seat. He must have felt her laughter transferred from her chest to his back because he shook his head and, just for a second, he took one hand off of the handlebars and gave her hand that was resting in the middle of his chest a little squeeze.

She was going to need more than that in a minute, she thought as she let go with one hand and pointed up a street that looked like it lead to nowhere.

'_What are you doing_?' she asked herself as she saw the lights of her closest neighbour's house speed by. Her pulse sped up as she thought about what was likely waiting for her up at the house. Jimmy was probably pacing. Her grandparents were probably worried sick. What she'd done was selfish, thoughtless and now she was going to go in there and tell them that the girl they all thought they knew...well, that they didn't.

She leaned her cheek against Mike's back and seriously considered asking him to turn back. She could hide out at his place, it looked like it needed a woman's touch and from what she'd seen of his fridge he looked like he needed someone to cook for him too.

"Is this it?" Mike's voice carried over his shoulder with the wind as he slowed at the pasture at the foot of the hill, where the big gate stood ajar as if they were expecting her.

'_Of course they are'_, she sighed as she reluctantly let go of him and reached for the strap on the helmet. She'd never stayed out a whole night in her life and despite the fact that it was already dark every light in the house was on and she had no doubt in her mind that the coffee was too. It was going to be a long walk to the house.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his feet on the ground but the engine still running as he turned to watch her shake her hair out as she pulled off the helmet.

"This...your my little pony bike doesn't deserve the abuse of that road, for one thing," she told him, climbing off the bike and handing him the helmet, "and you don't need to protect me. I told you, he's not gonna take a swing at me." He actually managed to look hurt, even with the open face helmet pushing his slightly chubby cheeks in and making him look a little like Nemo, but with stubble.

"You might need a ride somewhere...after," he suggested. Chelsea reached out and traced the lines of the tattoo on his bicep as she shook her head.

"They're not gonna kick me out of my own house," she sighed, her fingertips reading the word, Faith. Not the name of a girlfriend, but a mantra. She raised her gaze to meet his and he looked adorably confused. He'd obviously thought he was taking her to Jimmy's and with the horses in the paddock having made their way to the fence to greet her, she could understand why. He opened his mouth to ask the question and she answered it before he had to. "He works for my family," she shrugged and then leaned in and kissed him square on the mouth. "Thanks...for everything."

'_Go now before you lose your nerve'_ she told herself as she clung to his scarf, pulling his lips harder against her own. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him, hard. His hair still smelled a little bit like a camp fire but the rest of him smelled like wind mixed with the warm musky scent of boy.

She turned then, leaving him with her helmet in one hand and the brake and gas in the other. '_Don't look back'_ she told herself as she kicked at a pebble and headed up the long, rutted drive. This had nothing to do with him. '_Well not really'_, she reminded herself. He'd certainly been the catalyst but the trip to D.C. had been the i.e.d. that had blown her safe little world apart. There was no need to rub Jimmy's face in the fact that she wanted to be with another man. '_And it doesn't have to be him_' she told herself as she hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans and then sent another pebble skidding across the dirt. She could be with fifty different men if she wanted to.

'_Yeah right'_ she grinned at herself, '_as if now that you've been with two men you're suddenly gonna turn into a whore'. _That's the way that Jimmy would see it, she knew with absolute certainly. '_Which is why you're not gonna tell him'_ she told herself firmly as she glanced towards the barn. The light above the tack room was out, which meant that Jimmy was also waiting for her at the house. So much for having a quiet one on one conversation she thought glumly as she turned and headed up the last stretch of the drive, sending another pebble skipping across the dirt. She watched it disappear under her car and felt her heart stop beating.

There was a long, black town car sitting right in front of the house and that could only mean one thing.

Daddy's home.

Chelsea stood there staring at the long, low, black car with the limo tinted windows and swore.

"You comin' in the house or are you gonna stand there all night?" Chelsea looked up to see her father standing in the doorway, the light from the house spilling around his tall frame. Suddenly she didn't feel like the brave, independent woman. She felt like she was five, with Anne of Green Gables braids and a bandaid on her knee.

"Comin' daddy," she sighed, kicking another pebble ferociously against the bottom step, listening to the sound of it thudding off the old, faded wood. That helped. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like it did. She took her thumbs out of her belt loops and suddenly her hand was in a warmer, bigger one.

"I couldn't let you do this alone." She looked over at Mike and she was pretty sure her smile was brighter than the big old moon sitting low in the spring sky. The way he smiled encouragingly back at her filled her chest with the courage seeing that town car had stolen from her and the way he squeezed her hand as he took that first step up to the front door gave her the nerve to follow.

* * *

><p>It was like walking into McPhee's office and finding Boudreau, Leonsis and maybe worst of all Fishman. You knew you were fucked if legal was waiting behind that door. That's what walking into Chelsea's house felt like for Mike as he saw the older couple at the small table eyeing him with distaste that made him wish he'd done more than pull on a pair of tattered jeans and what he'd hoped, in the semi dark, was a clean white t-shirt.<p>

Jimmy sized him up from the couch where he sat, fuming as he stared at their joined hands. Mike did his best not to smirk but knew, when the tall, lean cowboy's hands fisted, that he'd lost the battle. Seeing the tall blonde's blue eyes flash murderously did help Mike to stand taller, straighter though and for that he was grateful as he turned his attention to the man in the slick grey pin striped suit.

This was exactly like facing Caps owner Leonsis and his legal Rottweiler, Fishman, across a desk. His gut twisted and his palms got sweaty. He wiped his free hand down the side of his jeans and sent an apologetic glance at Chelsea but her eyes were glued to her father.

She was holding her chin high but he could see her bottom lip was beginning to quiver. He'd expected the tears to be for the dusty cowpoke in the corner. He'd obviously been wrong.

"Jimmy says you came off a horse. I was supposed to stay in Ottawa for two days. I came all the way home. Where have you been?" Mike watched her nostrils flare and her usually pale, freckled cheeks suddenly bloomed with colour. She was fucking him, in his bed. It was his fault she hadn't stayed at the hospital. His fault she hadn't been home when her father got here.

"She was with me..._sir_." He caught her grateful glance out of the corner of his eye but Mike's gaze was how meeting the furious glare of a very angry daddy bear and just like he knew not to look away when facing down an opposition forward on a breakaway, Mike didn't so much as blink as Chelsea's father stared him down.

"And who, may I ask, are you? And why are you holding my daughter's hand?" Mike hadn't met the parents of a girlfriend in, well, maybe not since high school. Usually parents liked him. They took one look at him and thought, harmless. That had been before he'd been a professional hockey player. Now, he was pretty sure, most parents wouldn't want him anywhere near their daughters and he didn't blame them which is why he didn't really 'date' much. He was trying to decide if this man might, however, prefer to know who he really was and that he had more to offer his daughter than a skinny guy in pale jeans who cleaned up horseshit for a living.

"My name's Mike Green. I met your daughter in D.C. I play for the Capitals there sir, but I live here in Calgary in the offseason." He didn't need to turn to look at her to know that Chelsea's jaw had just dropped. He could practically hear it unhinge and couldn't resist aiming a quick, smug grin at Jimmy who was looking at him like he was imagining taking him apart surgically and painfully. Mike's chest swelled just a little. It was usually Ovie's deal, getting under the opposition's skin but right at this moment Mike knew why the great eight liked it so much. "I'm sorry you've all been worried but I can assure you, I'd never let anything happen to your daughter." It was bullshit when it rolled off his tongue but when he turned to look at her, when he saw the gratitude and warmth in this leaf green eyes, he knew the only person he was bullshitting in this room was himself.

'_You are sooooo fucked'_. It was Brooksy's voice in his head and he could see his friend's shit eating grin so clearly it was as if the big shouldered forward was right in the room, laughing at him. He wanted to kiss her, right here, in front of her family. He wanted to pull her close and inhale the sweet, berry scent of her hair. He ran his thumb across the back of her knuckles instead and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze instead. Hop along Jim Bob must have seen it because he got to his feet with a sound of disgust and pushed past them, almost taking the screen door off of its hinges as he set it swinging.

Chelsea turned to watch him go and Mike could feel the vibration all the way down her arm and into his hand and knew that she wanted to go after him and he got that same feeling he got sometimes right before he put a guy into the boards. Sometimes it was automatic, a way to get a guy off of the puck, but sometimes he wanted to hurt the guy. Right now he wanted to hurt that guy...a lot.

"Leave him CeeCee. He's a big boy, he'll get over it." Mike glanced back at Chelsea's father and immediately decided to like the man. "Well don't just leave your young man standing there. Do you drink coffee or tea son?"

* * *

><p>"That was...interesting," Chelsea mused as she led Mike out onto the porch. She could feel the eyes of her entire family still on them as they stood under the porch light. They had said their good nights but she knew they wouldn't be far away.<p>

"Actually I thought it was kind of fun," Mike replied as he swatted at a moth. Chelsea raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed. "Well okay, just the part where Garth Brooks took off in a huff," he added with a playful grin. That part, she thought, should be bothering her more than it was but as she gave him Mike a poke in the ribs she realized that she hadn't thought about Jimmy at all since they'd joined her grandparents at the table and Mike had started telling them all about playing for the Caps and how, one day, he hoped to play for the Flames.

"You handled them like a pro," she added more quietly, sending a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. The house looked dark now, at least the front of the house did, but she had no doubt that there were still eyes on them.

"They're nice actually. Your grandpa's a nut. I like him." Mike gave her hand a squeeze and then tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. Chelsea nodded and followed him down the stairs. They walked down the pathway to the driveway, their joined hands swinging in the cool spring night air.

"Well it explains your pad in D.C.," she mused and he let out a bark of laughter.

"I can't believe all your theories on that." She'd admitted to being there, just not when or why and had admitted that she hadn't known that the place was his. Mike had snorted tea across the table when she'd expounded on her theory that she'd been brought to his father's den of sin. "I'll have to remember to tell my dad about that. My mom won't like it but my dad will think it's fucking hilarious," he added with a low chuckle.

"You didn't have to do it," she said as they walked past her father's big dark car and headed alongside the upper paddock.

"Well it _was_ kind of my fault they were all worrying about where you were," he reminded her. "Besides I'd have been kind of a dick to leave you to face the music alone," he continued in an impish tone. Chelsea glanced over at him and found him looking at her, watching her. "I'm not sure with your old man there you'd have said anything to old hop a long," he added, his gaze suddenly serious. She dropped her gaze from his and shrugged. He was probably right about that she admitted to herself and knew her body language said the same to him. "Having second thoughts?" he asked as they reached the end of the drive. She could see his moped sitting on its kickstand near the front gate. If he'd done that in D.C. it would have been gone or torched by now.

'_Am I?'_ she wondered as she listened to the sounds of crickets and the wind moving through the high grass. She felt bad if she'd hurt him, but she did feel like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Shaking her head, she turned to face him and offered Mike her other hand.

"I guess that sort of depends," she said quietly, moving closer to him, guiding one of his hands around her waist and letting go of the other so she could slide her hand up beneath his t-shirt, pressing her hand flat against his warm skin.

"Oh yeah?" he replied, his tone low, voice husky, his lips so near to hers'. "On what?" She swayed against him, moving to a song that was playing in her head as she searched his face until her gaze focussed on his soft, pouting lips.

"If you'll be my boyfriend," she asked in a playful whisper. His lips curled up into a smile and as her gaze flicked up to his he drew her against him and just before mouth captured hers, he laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

_According to you I'm stupid, I'm useless  
>I can't do anything right<br>According to you I'm difficult, hard to please  
>Forever changing my mind<em>

I'm a mess in a dress, can't show up on time  
>Even if it would save my life<br>According to you, according to you

But according to him I'm beautiful, incredible  
>He can't get me out of his head<br>According to him I'm funny, irresistible  
>Everything he ever wanted<p>

Everything is opposite, I don't feel like stopping it  
>So baby tell me what I got to lose<br>He's into me for everything I'm not  
>According to you<p>

_(lyrics from 'According to You' by Orianthi)_

**Chapter 9**

She rolled over and felt the sun on her face. Opening one eye she watched the drapes float on the morning breeze. Breathing in a lungful of air she could almost taste the freshly mowed grass and warm scent of horseflesh.

Home.

It was the first time she'd actually felt that way since she'd got back to town. Snuggling down beneath her comforter, she closed her eyes and listened to the birds, the sound of the tractor starting up and waited for the sounds and smell of her father making coffee downstairs. Instead she heard her phone vibrating across her nightstand. Chelsea reached out blindly and felt around until her hand closed over her phone and pulled it under the quilt and peered at it.

_Thought about you all night_

She emitted a happy squeak and rolled over on her stomach. She didn't remember exchanging digits with him but he had been playing Angry Birds on her iPhone when she'd gotten dressed. The goofy self portrait that was now in her contacts folder gave away the fact he'd entered his own which explained why he had hers.

_Well I hope you got some sleep too_ she texted, adding a winky face in case he didn't get that she was trying to be sarcastic. Her phone lit a few seconds later and she giggled at his reply.

_Serious case of b__lue balls made that sort of difficult_

Her fingers were poised above her phone, ready to text back a suggestion for relieving his problem himself when her phone vibrated in her hand.

_Come out & play? _

Chelsea rolled over on her back and contemplated playing coy, or hard to get or a combination of both but decided that she did want to see him again and soon.

_When?__Where?_

She stared at her phone and waited for his response but none came. After a couple of minutes she put her phone aside and rolled over so that her back was facing it. She knew she was being childish by pouting but she'd got that rush of butterflies in her stomach and now it was gone.

The sound of small pebbles hitting the hard wood floor of her room merely puzzled her at first. The muffled curse that followed as he no doubt realized that the window was open and that he might have hit her with a rock made her laugh. Throwing her quilt aside, she jumped out of the bed and went to the window.

He was standing beneath her window in a pair of faded black jeans and snug fitting black t-shirt that emphasized the width of his chest not to mention his mile wide shoulders. He had a Yankees ball cap pulled low over his eyes so she couldn't see them but his broad effervescent grin was crystal clear from her vantage point, two stories up.

"I asked if you could come out. What are you waiting for?"

"Do you want to tell a girl where she's going so she knows what to wear?" she called down. He tilted his head to one side and she could see him squinting in the early morning light.

"What you're wearing looks pretty good to me," he called back, his smile broadening as Chelsea glanced down, trying to remember what she'd worn to bed. It was just a slip and a short one at that, leaving almost everything bare. She felt a warm heat spreading through her entire body at the memory of his hands on her skin. Did he mean to just take her back to his place and have his wicked way with her? Did she mind if he did? "Just bring comfortable shoes and get down here," he called as she took stock of her lack of clothes. She nodded and was about to pull her window shut when she caught sight of Jimmy coming out of the barn carrying a saddle. He stopped and looked, first at Mike and then up towards the house. She waved. He didn't even nod, just turned and walked towards the ring. Chelsea watched him go, feeling her smile fading.

She hadn't wanted to hurt him, not intentionally and not to be cruel. Seeing the blank expression on his face took some of the pleasure out of seeing Mike...but not all of it.

* * *

><p>Mike stared down at his phone and cursed quietly. A large helping of bacon, eggs, pancakes and hash-browns had just been put down in front of him and now his agent was sending him the reminder of the radio interview at the local sports station.<p>

"I'm sorry, can we have this to go?" he said to the waitress before she had even settled the plate on the table in front of him. Her 'happy to see you expression' immediately changed into 'I had better get a whopping big tip' look. Chelsea's eyes got wide over the slice of bagel she had just bitten into. "I completely forgot," he explained, handing her his phone as proof, "this interview. I'm really, really sorry. I promise it won't take long." She looked at his phone as the waitress took her plate and Mike steeled himself for an angry barrage. After all, he'd gotten her out of bed and she was looking way to fly to deposit in the front waiting room of a radio station but she just shrugged, downed her coffee and said nothing. He couldn't believe it. Some of the girls he'd dated and in no way seriously, had thrown downright hissy fits over less than this. Mike peeled off one more twenty than was strictly necessary as the waitress came back and as they stood, he couldn't help but ask. "You're pissed right? I mean you have a right to be but you are pissed at me right?"

"No," she smiled as they fell into step. "Strictly speaking I should have made you wait while I mucked out stalls but...I didn't want to do that in _this_," she added, making the hem of her sundress swirl around her knees. He'd have liked it better if it had been shorter, but the way the sun was shining through it now made the light butter yellow fabric almost transparent and Mike decided that he liked it just fine as he stared hungrily at the shadow of her breasts. "But I am gonna eat this on the way," she continued holding up the half of a bagel she hadn't allowed the waitress to take. "Unless you're gonna forbid me to in your fancy car," she added as he stepped down off the curb beside the driver's side door. Mike eyed the strawberry jam and cream cheese spread on the bagel and knew that even with his boys he had a rule about no food and drink in most of his vehicles but there was something about the way she licked her lips after she took a bite that was making saying no to her a lot more difficult. "What is with you and the fancy wheels anyway?" she asked as he thumbed the key fob to unlock the doors of the baby escalade.

"I like nice things," he replied immediately without having to give it a second thought as he leaned on the roof of the lowered, fully pimped out black Cadillac SRX. "I like you don't I?"

"Wow," she grinned across at him but not like she was basking in the glow of the compliment but more like she thought he was the biggest cheesehead she'd ever met. "Do you get all the girls with your smooth lines?"

"I got you," he laughed, opening the door as she did the same on her side and sliding in behind the wheel. He put on his shades and then leaned across the centre consul for a kiss. She smiled at him and then stuck her finger in the jam and cream cheese and spread it across his lips instead.

"That remains to be seen," she told him and then settled back into her seat and bit into the bagel and chewed thoughtfully, staring straight ahead.

He liked this girl. She had something different from the other girls he'd met recently. She had spunk, he decided as he turned the key and backed the car out of the parking lot.

* * *

><p>She'd flipped through most of the magazines in the place and decided that someone seriously needed to speak to whoever ordered them. There was a good cross section of mens' magazines like SI, GQ Esquire and of course every single solitary back issue of FHM and Maxim but there was not a single solitary issue of Instyle , Cosmo or Vogue, let alone Ladies Journal or anything else someone with a vagina would spend more than ten minutes looking at.<p>

"Did you want to listen?" the receptionist, who hadn't so much as popped her head above the desk that bore the call letters of the station was suddenly watching her with interest.

"To...?" Chelsea reluctantly closed the copy of GQ she was holding with a sweaty Alex Skarsgard on the cover and looked up curiously at the pixie-like face looking over at her.

"Do you want to listen to the interview?" She thought for a moment, wondering if there'd be a lot of talk about a sport she didn't know much about and then decided she did want to know more about him and nodded. The woman behind the desk smiled and then disappeared behind the large screen of her computer and suddenly Mike's voice was filling the room.

She could hear the smile in his voice, that playful tone that in turn made her smile. He talked about teammates whose names she didn't recognize and games she'd never seen but she liked the laid back way he talked about everything. He didn't sound self important, in fact most of the time he sounded downright self-conscious when the on air personalities played up his role on the team.

"You two been dating long?" the young woman from behind the desk suddenly appeared in front of her with a can of diet Coke. Chelsea thought about asking if they had the real thing around anywhere but decided against it and took the can as she shook her head. "Ah...I see," the woman raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips and suddenly Chelsea realized that she was being looked at differently.

"We met in D.C.," she said, sitting straighter and staring right back at the woman who then met her gaze with a slightly more respectful one of her own. Would he really have brought a girl here who he'd met at the bar the night before? Chelsea wondered as she took a sip of the cool, dark bubbly liquid. Not that she remembered many of the faces of his friends, who she now supposed might have been his teammates, but out of all of them she thought he was one of the least likely to be a player. He'd never seemed like one to her.

"So the ladies of Calgary want to know Mike," one of the announcers asked as the interview wound down, "are ya seein' anyone? Will we be seeing you at Cowboys?" Mike laughed and shook his head.

"I've already been to Cowboys since I got back," he told them and the two on air guys gave him the thumbs up like they were glad he was still the guy they'd expected, the guy voted most likely to take pictures of himself tanked with two hot blondes and post it to Twitter. "And I've got a night planned at Vinyl soon, when some of my boys come in for the charity golf tournament and I'm sure I'll see you all at Stampede," he added, thinking about how good Chelsea had looked in her tight jeans and debating how hot she'd look with a Stetson on.

"I noticed you dodged the first part of the question," the guys laughed and Mike felt heat enter his cheeks. He hadn't really dodged it, so much as ignored it. "That's okay. We'll let him get away with that won't we? Don't want to cramp a playah's style." Mike was already taking off the headphones and laughing nervously as he held his hand out to one of the two guys to shake.

"No word about the hottie waiting outside for you Mike?" the other guy asked. Mike swivelled and stared at the heavy set man sitting behind the mic. He froze, his hand still held out to one of the two interviewers while he stared down the other one. It was like facing down two streaking forwards, only this time there was no goalie behind him and if he made the wrong decision they were going to get any empty net. Mike mulled over several answers, looking for one that would cause him the least amount of grief, from his agent, from his friends and most of all from Chelsea.

"Do people use labels anymore?" he asked with a grin that was in no way real and was, in fact, a hell of a lot closer to baring his teeth like a junk yard dog. "She's a beautiful girl and I'm going to leave it at that. Have a great day guys and I hope everyone comes out for the golf tournament, it's for a great cause and I'm hoping we get some great weather for it." Mike turned from the mic then, signalling that there would be no more questions and immediately started hoping that Chelsea hadn't heard what he'd just said.

He'd had girls get mental when he wouldn't hold their hands in public or didn't introduce them to his teammates as his girlfriend even if they'd only met the night before. When he pushed the door open to the lobby he found her rifling through a magazine and when she looked up at his approach, she greeted him with a smile.

"Ready to go?" he asked holding out his hand to help her up out of the chair. She looked at his hand and then back up at him and tilted her head to one side.

"That depends," she began, a mischievous glint in her eyes. It was only as he started trying to anticipate her answer the way he would try to anticipate whether an opposing player was going to make a pass or a shot through the defensive zone that he realized that the he was hearing the voices of the guys who had just been interviewing him playing in the room. His gut twisted as he waited for her to tear him a new one for denying their relationship. "You're supposed to ask what on," she prompted him, giving his sneaker clad foot a shove with those strappy gold sandals that reminded him _waaaay_ too much of that night in D.C.

"On?" he mumbled, doing his best Droopy imitation.

"What's the plan Stan? Where are we going?" she asked, laughing as she grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, planting her body near enough to his that he could feel the heat of her skin.

"Oh that...yeah...I wondered if you'd help me do some shopping for some uh...new bedding and stuff," he asked sheepishly. Her face lit up and she turned, heading for the door, practically dragging him behind her.

"I'm good at shopping. I hope you've got good credit."

* * *

><p>She was piling bright green and blue coloured towels in his arms when the realization that she'd been the only one talking for the last half hour. As she put the next folded towel on top of the last one she'd piled into his arms, she pressed down until she could see his face. At best he looked distracted, at worst, upset.<p>

"Okay, I know men hate shopping but you're the one who brought me here," she pointed out, and, when she got no reaction Chelsea rolled her eyes and went back to picking out matching hand towels and wash cloths.

"No...uh thanks. I totally need the help," he muttered in reply. '_Well d'uh, you're a man'_ she thought as she grabbed a handful of washcloths in each colour and then turned to pile them on top of the growing pile in his arms, her full hand pausing as his gaze held hers and a gentle smirk tugged the corner of his mouth up at a crooked angle.

"What?" she asked, her hand automatically going up to see if she had lipstick on her teeth or if it was smudged on the corner of her mouth. "Do I have a raspberry seed in my teeth or something?"

"You're really not bothered, are you?" he asked, his nose wrinkling and his eyes narrowing as he gazed steadily at her. Chelsea stared back at him, waiting for him to tell her what she was suppose to be bothered by, other than his sullen silence. Finally when his grin broadened, she dropped the washcloths on top of the pile and turned to walk towards the bathmats. She only made it a couple of steps when she felt his arms slide around her waist and the next thing she knew her feet were off of the ground and he was nuzzling her neck like a calf looking for a teat.

"I...can't..._breathe_," she gasped, pushing down at his arms as they slid up her ribcage. He laughed and kissed her cheek before putting her down. "You're weird," she mumbled, trying very hard not to giggle as he held her against the width of his chest and nibbled on her ear like maybe it had suddenly turned into a cob of corn.

"The boys are gonna _loooove_ you," he laughed, giving her ribs a crushing squeeze before he let her go and turned to scoop up the towels that he'd let drop to the floor. Chelsea turned and watched him, admiring the bootylicious angle as his jeans strained to contain what she knew to be solid muscle.

"Boys?" she asked as he turned around.

"Friends...teammates, whatever. Some guys I know are coming for this golf tournament and Stampede. You're in right?" Chelsea raised an eyebrow at him and shrugged.

"I might have things to do, I don't know. I'll have to check my calendar and get back to you," she replied with a shrug. He only laughed, as if she'd just said something hilarious, and Chelsea quickly turned her back on him and headed back towards the bathmats so he wouldn't see her smile.

* * *

><p>"There," she said, dropping the last freshly plumped pillow in place before standing back to survey her handiwork, "guest room number two officially ready for visitors." Mike leaned in the doorway and nodding approvingly.<p>

"Looks much better than it would have if I'd picked everything out," he agreed. She turned and gave him a quizzical look. "You didn't think I decorated my digs in D.C. did you?" he asked, watching the truth of his words dawn on her.

"Yeah, I guess I _have_ seen you bedroom," she smirked and at the mere mention of his bed, Mike felt his balls tighten. He'd been watching her in that sundress all day, the silhouette of her body teasing him every time she moved. He wanted to drag her to his bedroom now but he had something he wanted to do first.

"C'mere," he held out his hand and she slipped her smaller one into his. Mike led her into the kitchen and, still holding her hand, reached for the marker hanging from the small whiteboard he usually wrote his work-out schedule on and scribbled a message for her while she read over his shoulder.

_Will you be my girlfriend?_

Underneath he drew two, not very straight, boxes and beside the first he wrote _Yes_ and _No_ beside the second.

He heard her snort and before he could even hand her the marker, she reached around him and with her finger drew an 'x' through the yes box. Feeling on top of his game, Mike reached up redrew the yes box and wiped off the question and before writing another.

_Can we have sex now?_


	10. Chapter 10

_I hope that you see right through my walls  
>I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling<br>I'll never let a love get so close  
>You put your arms around me and I'm home<em>

I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth  
>And I've never opened up<br>I've never truly loved 'Till you put your arms around me  
>And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go<p>

_(lyrics Christina Perri 'Arms')_

**Chapter 10**

He woke to the pins and needles tingling in his arm and a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down at the mass of red curls spread across his shoulder and arm where it curled around her shoulders, holding her where her body curled against his. Her cheek was pressed against his chest and by the slow and deep way she was breathing, he guessed she was still asleep.

This had been the way he'd wanted to wake up that first morning, back in D.C. but if she had he wouldn't have known what to do. This morning, as sun beams slanted through the drapes he laid there, watching her sleep, and didn't want to move a muscle. He was vaguely aware that he was hungry. The midnight trip to the kitchen for snacks had only ended up emptying his fridge of most of the fruit and all of the canned whip cream, most of which he'd licked off of her. Licking his lips Mike could still taste the intermingling of the sugary sweet desert topping and the salty goodness of her juices.

Just thinking about the sounds she'd made while he'd swirled his tongue around her joy button made his cock ache to be inside of her again. He had never met a woman who overtly enjoyed sex the way she did. Most of the girls, at least the puck fucks he'd been with, spent so much time trying to sound and look like porn stars that he was pretty sure they forgot to actually have fun too. Chelsea not only obviously enjoyed it but most of the time she was the aggressor and besides that, she could go and go for hours. Now, as he lay with her arm draped over his stomach and her warm breath teasing the hairs on his chest he felt as if he'd just played back to back games, been in a fight and had a bag skate the next morning.

It was a good kind of tired though, he decided as he combed his fingers through the silken red strands of her hair. He felt certain he could happily wake up like this every day...well, maybe not _every_ day he decided, imagining Boudreau screaming at him to pick up his fucking feet. Yeah, maybe not on game days.

"Hungry."

Mike looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed but she was smiling in that playful kittenish sort of way.

"I think I have some bread...maybe some eggs." He mentally went through his cupboards, deciding that he was going to have to get some groceries in. He was trying to remember if they'd ever closed the fridge door when he felt her hand slide down over his stomach.

"Not that kind of hungry," she purred, opening one eye to look up at him with that look that immediately made him hard as a rock. He moaned as her fingers curled around the base of his cock and then groaned as her mouth closed around the small pink nub of his nipple. She'd discovered that particular weakness of his accidentally, while licking whip cream off of his chest. Now, as she swirled her tongue around it before gently closing her teeth on it Mike felt his balls pull up tight. She grinned at him, her straight, white teeth still tugging at the tiny pink nub as he sucked in a breath sharply. "I like having you at my mercy," she chuckled as kissed her way across his chest. He liked it too but he didn't tell her that. He didn't need to. It was pretty obvious in the way that he lay there and let her repeat all of those actions again while her fist slowly pumped up and down his hard on.

Her hair was like another hand, sweeping lightly over his chest, almost tickling but not quite. He watched it splay out over his pale chest like it was a live thing, catching the morning light and turning into sparks, transforming into liquid fire. He dug his fingers into it, grabbed a handful of it and brought her mouth up to his. She kissed him sweetly, her lips brushing innocently across his while her hand curled around his balls like a pro. Mike looked up at her, surrounded by a waterfall of flame and lost himself in her emerald eyes. Some of the guys dated models, and Ovie definitely had some hotties he brought over from the mother land but in that moment Mike didn't think there was a more beautiful woman in the entire world.

"I want to be inside you," he whispered, reaching up to cradle her cheek in his hand, to bring her lips down over his. She grinned right before she nipped at his bottom lip and then she tossed that mane of flame over her shoulder and slid back, moving over him, crawling down his body until she was hovering over him, her pussy lips just brushing the head of his engorged cock.

He watched his dick slide up into her or her down onto him. This was a good angle. Her pert breasts bobbing with each of her movements, her whole body on display for him plus he could watch her as she came, her entire face suffused with pleasure. Mike reached up to capture her breasts in his hands but she grabbed his wrists and pinned them at his sides, leaning over him so that her hair brushed across his face, his chest and making it clear she was in charge here.

That was fine with him, he thought as he watched her green eyes flutter closed and her ripe red lips fall open as her hips rose and fell, twisting and rocking in a rhythm that, even though they hadn't known each other long, Mike already knew that she was wasn't going to take long, which was a good thing. He never lasted long in the morning.

She twisted her head to the side, bit down on her bottom lip and made a sound in her throat that was almost a whimper. Her eyes were shut tight in concentration and her knees tightened against his thighs as she rode him. She was practically masturbating on top of him and Mike did the only thing he could to help her along. He lifted his hips and drove himself up into her. Chelsea let out a cry and tossed her head back as her nails dug into his wrists.

"Do it baby, I want to see you cum," he told her as she pressed her lips together and rocked her hips forward, hard and fast. Mike looked down the plane of his body and watched her pussy lips part like a curtain to reveal his cock, glistening with her juices, just for an instant and then they came together again as she slammed her body down onto his. She whimpered and tossed her head back as he drove up into her one more time and then her head fell back, her breasts raised like an offering to the sky and her hands slid from his wrists as she reached back and dug her nails into his thighs.

Mike sat up and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her pert little breasts to his mouth and swirling his tongue around their peach coloured tips. He felt her body sway into his, her arms wrapping around his neck and carefully, slowly he rolled her onto her back. He pressed his mouth over the jumping pulse in her neck, the shallow above her collarbone, the swell of her breast, the valley between them. He kissed the round of her shoulder, the curve of her waist, the slight swell of her stomach and dug his tongue into the shallow of her belly button. He kissed the smooth skin where her mound met her thigh and then, sliding further down the bed, he brushed the rough prickling of his whiskers against her inner thigh until she squirmed.

Her pussy was glistening, pink and warm as he parted her inner lips and slid two fingers in and up inside of her. He heard her sigh as he slid the flat of his tongue from her entrance up to that hard little bud of nerves that made her tremble as he swirled his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. Her nails dug into his hair, his scalp, which was fine because it itched anyway. He ignored her pleas to make her cum. He could tell by the way her pussy walls tightened around his fingers that she was right on the edge but he wanted her to stay there and wait for him. He finger fucked her slowly while he dug the tip of his tongue under her clit and then sucked it into his mouth again. He could feel or maybe hear her heels drumming the bed somewhere near his shoulders and ignored that too as he pursed his lips against her clit and blew out, making motorboat sounds and vibrating her clit mercilessly until she screamed in frustration.

Then, taking his cock in his hands and kneeling between her thighs, Mike held the tip of cock just outside of her, teasing her clit with it, dipping it just into her slit and then taking it out again as she protested loudly. The minute she reached down to relieve herself though, he turned the tables on her, grabbed her wrists and pinned them either side of her head while he slid himself balls deep inside of her hot, throbbing wet snatch.

They groaned in unison and then held their breath, each of them knowing the other was so close and wanting to hold off that moment of release for at least another few, short moments. Mike looked down at her, at her pale cheeks filled now with a mixture of desire and exertion, her eyes almost glowing, her full lips plump and waiting for his kiss and he thought just that, just looking at her like that, might make him go. This was sex, really good sex, but he knew as he covered her mouth with his own and they started to move together, that this was now something else, something new.

As her ankles dug into the backs of his thighs and her hips tilted up to take him deeper, he knew he was going to lose control. He let go of one of her wrists and reached for the, thankfully still open drawer at his bedside table and the condoms within. Her hand captured his before his fingers found their goal and their fingers laced and hers pulled his back onto the bed.

"I want to feel you," she whispered against his mouth, before pressing her lips back up against his. He moved his other hand to lace those fingers with hers and their bodies pressed as close as they could ever be. His brain told him this was dangerous but as her body shuddered and slid over the edge, taking his with her and her cry of release was muffled by his kiss and his own groan of relief, he decided he didn't care.

* * *

><p>"So what's the plan for today?" she called from the shower. Mike was already towelling off. Chelsea watched him through the glass surround on the shower as he bent to run the towel down his long, strong, lean legs. She was pretty sure she could still go another round. Mike, on the other hand, had been pretty clear that he was sure it would fall off if they tried.<p>

"I wouldn't mind a hand with getting some groceries," he called back as he ran the towel up his chest and then into his thick, dark hair, "and then I guess I better get you home. Your dad just being back from D.C., he probably wants to spend some time with you."

Chelsea didn't argue. She could already hear the recriminations in her head, was already anticipating the dark looks she'd be getting and not just from her family. She could count the number of times she'd stayed out all night on one hand...no, three _fingers_, and she would be surprised if they all weren't waiting right now with cups of dark coffee and staring at the door with grim expressions on their faces.

"Yeah, I should probably call." She winced as she said it out loud. It made her feel like a little kid to say it and she imagined it made her sound like a little kid to Mike too. She glanced over at him as she ducked her head under the water to rinse out the shampoo but he wasn't looking at her and he wasn't even making a face, except at himself as he dragged a handful of gel through his thick, unruly hair.

"Maybe if we go now we can bring him some Timmy Ho's on the way back," Mike offered brightly, tugging at one lock of hair that wouldn't follow the rest. Chelsea grinned at him. He was a good guy, a nice guy. If her grandmother gave him a chance she might even call him a keeper.

Not that she was thinking about stuff like that yet, she told herself sternly as she poured a handful of conditioner into one hand and then put the bottle back in the tray hanging from the shower head before putting the goop in her hair. It was fun, they were having fun. There was no need to get heavy about it, she reminded herself as she dragged her fingers through her hair. In fact, she thought as she dragged her palms down to the ends of her hair, spreading the conditioner thoroughly, the reason she was with him was because she couldn't handle heavy right now. This was exactly what she needed. Light, fun, no ties. He was leaving at the end of the summer and that would be that. This wasn't a forever thing and that was a good thing.

She looked down at her legs and made a face. She'd had them waxed before she left D.C. but she was almost sure she'd felt stubble on them as she'd run the loofah over them. Mike had an electric thing, an expensive looking razor plugged in over by the sink, she'd noticed. Maybe he had some disposable ones under the sink somewhere. She opened her mouth to ask when she felt his hands running through her hair, tipping her head back under the water and his lips on her neck.

"Hey I thought you said...," she began, laughing when his growl vibrated against her skin.

"That was before I watched you," he snarled as his teeth found her earlobe and tugged.

"You've got all that stuff in your hair," she warned as he lifted her off of the river pebble floor and pressed her against the slate tile of the wall, his cock nudging its way inside.

"Wash out, put more in," he replied with a feral growl before covering her mouth with his and silencing her, for the moment.

* * *

><p>It had been fun to have someone along to do something as mundane as buying groceries, especially because she'd made him pick out actual food rather than just energy bars and fruit cups and stopped him from loading up on chips and pop which was what he'd planned on buying for having the guys around. She'd even impressed the sommelier at the wine store they'd stopped at where he'd have been happy to buy the closest ten dollar bottle and she'd insisted on getting a thirty five dollar bottle of cabernet franc from some winery called Burrowing Owl and an even more expensive bottle of sauvignon blanc from some apparently award winning winery called Blasted Church. So much for a case of Pilsener and a bottle of cider for Backsy.<p>

As he carefully balanced a tray of Timmy Ho's large double doubles and a box of Timbits and following her up the stairs as she fished out her keys, he was sort of wishing the day wasn't about to end. He did have stuff to do before the golf tournament and he did have friends that he hadn't had a chance to catch up with yet, but as he watched her turn the key in the lock he wanted to tell her not to, to get back in his car and spend the day with him.

'_Getting soft Greener'_ he told himself, or was that Brooksy in his ear again he wondered as she pushed the door open. The salty smell of bacon frying hit his nose and made his stomach grumble. They'd hit a Starbucks on their way to the grocery store but the pumpkin scone had definitely not been enough.

"I'm home!" Chelsea called. She'd texted her father in the car. He hadn't replied. Mike was half expected a gun in his face. He certainly hadn't expected her grandmother in an apron with freshly baked biscuits on a plate and her father pouring orange juice and smiling at him as if he hadn't just spent the last twelve or so hours tapping his daughter.

"I hope you're hungry," her grandmother smiled warmly as she put the plate of warm biscuits down beside a plate of real butter. Mike licked his lips.

"Definitely," he replied, pulling a chair out and sitting down in front of an empty plate that was all of a sudden full of scrambled eggs followed by at least half a dozen strips of crispy bacon. Just the way he liked it. "I'm gonna have to spend some time in the gym after this," he muttered, mostly as a reminder to himself.

"You look like you could hit some weights," a voice rang out behind him and the warm, friendly and welcoming kitchen suddenly got cool and every face turned towards the doorway. Mike glanced over his shoulder to see that annoying cowpoke taking off his dented and stained straw hat as he stood by the still open door. "Sorry to interrupt folks," the big sweaty cowboy grinned like he actually wasn't sorry at all, "but I believe Snowbird's about to foal and I could do with a hand."

Mike expected her father to grab an old fashioned doctor's bag and go flying out the door but instead it was Chelsea that reached out and grabbed a strip of bacon off of his plate and tore out the door. He watched her go, unsure if he should go after her or stay where he was and not because he didn't trust her but he sure as hell didn't trust that overgrown primate.

"May as well stay and eat that young man," her grandmother decided for him. "You won't be use nor ornament down at the barn. You'd just be in the way," she added, adding two links of browned sausages to his plate. "You eat that and then be on your way," she added before taking a seat beside him and picking up a steaming cup of black coffee. "They'll let us know when they're done."


	11. Chapter 11

_I stopped bein' the victim  
>But you weren't there to see<br>I never felt bitter  
>Till you crippled me<br>I felt like a refugee from the pain  
>I had to wear that shroud with no shame<br>Deceit and lies  
>were your crying game<br>I never fell in love so deeply in vain_

_(lyrics from 'Mr Hurricane' by Beast)_

**Chapter 11**

The mare's sweat soaked flesh rippled under her fingertips and the horse lifted her head from the straw and looked back, her eyes rolling in discomfort. Chelsea laid a kiss against the mare's cheek and whispered soft words of encouragement while she did her best to ignore what Jimmy was doing down at the business end and not just because of the fact that at the moment he was elbow deep checking the position of the foal or filly.

Jimmy was nice to look at. Girl, women who came up for trail rides or lessons sometimes came off their mounts when he walked out of the barn with his shirt open, never mind when his shirt was actually off like it was now and she was no more immune to that particular visual than any other red blooded woman. Plus she knew, as she listened to him settle back into the straw, he was well aware of the effect his physique had on her. Like now, as he wiped his arm off with a towel and tossed that over the side of the stall, he could put his shirt back on, but he didn't. She considered suggesting that he'd catch a cold if he didn't but decided against it. That would only suggest she'd been taking in the view.

"Your dad waited up last night. The lights were on up at the house most of the night." Chelsea was tempted to point out that this meant that he had also been waiting up but instead she shrugged and kept those thoughts to herself.

"I'm not a little girl anymore," she reminded him quietly as she stroked the mare's neck. He made a noise in his throat that she interpreted as half amusement and half agreement. The mare's entire body shuddered and they both got very still, ready to go to action stations if need be but the soon to be mother laid her head back down on the hay and her breathing went back to normal, or almost normal.

"So this...rebellion of yours...how's that going so far?" Chelsea clenched her teeth. She'd known when he hadn't just asked for her father's help that Jimmy wanted to talk. She just didn't want to fight.

"Jimmy don't, please," she hissed, doing her best to keep her expression calm and impassive. If the mare so much as caught a sniff of the emotional tumult in the room her stress would be doubled. As it was Chelsea was more than impressed with how calm Snow was being with her first.

"Is he...does he treat you well?" There were a dozen questions Jimmy could have asked. That hadn't been the one she'd anticipated. Chelsea glanced over at the tall blonde but he was staring at a space somewhere between his knees where they were pulled up as he sat on the straw with his back against the far wall of the stall.

"He does actually," she answered softly. Jimmy nodded and a disdainful grin tugged at the corners of his full lips.

"I assume this is supposed to be some kind of lesson in humility," he began, his tone changing from what had sounded like actual concern to something that was far closer to outright scorn. Chelsea didn't reply immediately. She hadn't thought of it quite that way. Maybe, she thought, back in D.C. there might have been an element of that, but it had also been about letting go of some of the apron strings she'd felt tied to, of being free.

"He's fun, that's all," she replied carefully. Not that she wanted to talk to Jimmy about Mike, but she did feel she owed him some kind of explanation.

"I'm not." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and there was anger in his voice as he forced the words out through clenched teeth. Chelsea winced but didn't answer. Jimmy was quiet and thoughtful, the strong silent type that women always say they want, what she had thought she wanted. Now, as she watched him wring a piece of straw in his long fingers, it was hard to believe that she had really loved the self contained, domineering man whose sky blue eyes now looked more like ice. "So are you just sewing your wild oats, is that it? This is some kind of summer fling?" Mike was gone at the end of the summer, back to D.C., they both knew that, but it wasn't something they had talked about.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. The mare's belly rippled as she snorted through another contraction. For a moment Chelsea concentrated on Snow, on soothing her, but it also gave her a moment to think.

"Am I supposed to wait?" When she looked over at him, for just a moment she thought that Jimmy might actually be going to cry. His eyes were huge and round and when he turned to look at her, tears shimmered in his blue eyes. "Do I wait while you run around and have fun?"

"I...you don't have to do anything." She hadn't given him or his feelings much thought she realized as she turned her face away from his accusing stare. "Do...do whatever you want," she added, guilt making her chest tight and her eyes burn as she felt his gaze like a blazing heat focused directly on her.

"Or _whoever_?" His bitter chortle made her shudder. "Yeah, I don't think daddy's little girl would like that too much. No, I'm not under any illusions that you'd stick around if I did that." Chelsea took a deep breath. Even though Mike was going back to D.C. at the end of the summer it had never occurred to her that she would go back to Jimmy. Obviously he thought otherwise.

"You can do whatever or _whoever_ you want Jimmy," she told him quietly but firmly. She heard him snort in a way that said he clearly didn't believe her and she ground her teeth together. The mare's ears twitched and Chelsea forced herself to blow out the breath she was holding. "I don't expect you to live like some kind of monk, I'm not a child anymore Jimmy. I know you think that this is some kind of rebellious faze I'm going through but..."

"I think we both know that I haven't thought of you as a child for a _long_ time now."

There was anger, bitterness and resentment in that statement but there an underlying message too. If she was trying to lay the blame at his feet, he wasn't accepting it. It was also a reminder that he held prior claim to her, to her body. Chelsea shuddered, sense memory reminding her of the way his body felt when it moved over hers'.

She tried to think of a scathing retort or a cutting personal attack but her brain wouldn't respond, instead sending images of stolen moments in his small room just above their heads, his skin made gold by candlelight, his now icy blue eyes looking more like sun warmed bays in the Bahamas.

She had loved him, once.

Chelsea turned her face away, blinking back tears of pride and shame. She heard the rustle of straw behind her, knew by instinct that he was moving towards her, that if she didn't tell him not to that he would wrap her up in his arms and she'd give in just like she always did and then the mare let out a bellow and thrashed under her hand and when she turned to look the foal's rear hooves were sliding free.

* * *

><p>He was half way home, Hinder blaring from the speakers, telling himself that he had plenty to do and that he didn't care that Chelsea had never come back to the house, that she was probably doing it in the barn with that hick from the sticks. He'd almost convinced himself that it didn't matter to him when he found himself pulling a tire shredding brake squealing e-brake u-turn at an intersection and going back the way he'd just come.<p>

"I don't care," he told himself firmly, slamming his fist against the steering wheel as he waited impatiently at the last light before the turn to the ranch. He could go, tonight, to Cowboys, and take any one of a dozen girls home. "But they wouldn't be _her_." Mike sighed as he backed off the gas pedal and leaned his forehead on his knuckles and took a deep breath. "You're fucked old boy," he mused, gingerly easing the Cadillac into the intersection. He thought about turning around again, knowing he had things to do before the boys arrived, but the car found its way to the bottom of the hill, outside the gate. He stared up at the stables and felt a tug, a magnetic draw, as if he'd put on a leash and he had no choice but to follow wherever he was lead.

Even so, he dragged his feet as he walked towards the stables. He had visions of finding them both there, her pale skin glowing, slick with a fine sheen of sweat, her hair setting fire to the hay, laying beneath that cowpoke. His hands curled into fists as he imagined her in anyone else's arms but his.

"So fucked," he mumbled under his breath as he pushed the door to the stables open.

"Mike! Come see," she whispered reverently from where she knelt in the straw, her hands held open, ready to catch the rickety legged foal as it stumbled, trying to gain its feet. Looking over her head, his gaze met her ex's. There was murder in the other man's eyes. With a smirk Mike turned his attention back to Chelsea and knelt beside her in the hay.

"Wow, look at that, he's already standing." Mike pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and she turned, grabbed his face and covered his mouth with hers'.

"It's amazing isn't it?" she gushed, turning back to the scene before them. She reached down and laced her fingers with his. Mike lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips to each of her knuckles in turn, all the while holding the gaze of the angry cowpoke. '_Mine'_ his eyes said as he gathered her back against his body and sunk down into the warm straw.

"I'm so glad you came back," she whispered, snuggling back against him.

"Me too," he told her, brushing his lips against her temple as he glared at her ex who was now looming above them both. He watched as the grime covered vanilla gorilla tried to decide whether or not to pull Chelsea out of his arms. He'd seen that look on opposing players when they wanted to fight but knew it wasn't in their team's best interest and that they'd probably sit the rest of the game if they did. Mike did what the best shit disturbers in the league did in this situation and grinned at Jimmy.

With a growl of sheer frustration her ex spun on his heel and disappeared out of the stall. Mike listened until he couldn't hear the man's boot heels any longer before he actually allowed himself to relax.

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

Chelsea stood with her hand in a stirrup, waiting for Mike to put his foot in it and ignored his answer, despite the fact that he'd now given that same answer four times. Bunty, a patient, elderly wide girthed mare tossed her mane and rolled her eyes as she looked back at him. She too was waiting impatiently for him to mount as she literally chomped at the bit, rolling it over her teeth impatiently as Mike stood on the foot stool and shook his head.

"I swear she is the tamest, sweetest horse ever. She doesn't bite, won't buck and no matter how hard you try to make her, she doesn't run. We're just going to take a leisurely saunter up to the high meadow." Chelsea waited for Mike to give in, but he turned out that he had a stubborn streak. That or he was a big fucking chicken. "_Please_, for me?" she added, batting her eyelashes in what she hoped was both an endearing and enticing way. Mike looked doubtfully at the saddle on the mare's wide back again and pulled a face that made it clear exactly what he thought of this idea.

"There's a clause in my contract strictly forbidding me from doing dangerous shit like this," he told her, his face brightening as if he was proud of himself for pulling that particularly nugget out of his ass. Chelsea shook her head.

"Then either get your agent on the phone and have him read to me where it says you can ride that putt-putt scooter of yours on the freeway or get on the damn horse Green," she ordered, reaching up to scratch the blaze between the mare's eyes. Mike grumbled again and reached for the stirrup.

"Fine but if I pull a groin just getting on this thing..." he began as he hoisted himself into the saddle.

"Put it this way, there won't be any more groin pulling if you don't," she giggled as she waited while he settled himself before she handed him the reins over the mare's twitching ears and then turned and headed towards her own patiently waiting mount. "Don't you throw me today Poppy," she warned the appaloosa as she untied the reins from the hitching post and draping them over the horse's neck. As she put her hand on the pommel of the saddle to hoist herself up she felt a pair of hands lifting her trailing leg and looked back to see Jimmy bent, ready to hand her up and his gaze locked on hers. He looked stricken and her heart cracked.

"Your Gran sent a care package," he said quietly, tilting his head to indicate the picnic basket at his feet. It felt like he had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart like an overripe peach as she looked down the old fashioned basket with the gingham blanket wrapped over the food. Chelsea glanced at Jimmy but there was no indication of malice or any kind of negative intent in his expression. This was not a reminder of his almost proposal, it really was only what he said it was.

Tentatively she put her shin in his laced fingers and let him hoist her up, swinging her free leg over the saddle. She didn't need the help, she could mount Popcorn in an Indian roll bareback, but she knew that doing something chivalrous was his way of saying he was sorry.

"Have a good ride," he offered quietly.

"Thanks." It wasn't for the hand up and it was pretty clear that they both knew that as he met her apologetic gaze with a resigned smile of his own. "C'mon Poppy," she clicked her tongue and gave her mare a gentle kick, getting her moving in the right direction.

"Don't worry, Bunty will follow wherever Popcorn goes." She didn't dare look back, afraid the look of shock on her face at hearing Jimmy speak so civilly to Mike would worry him and that Jimmy would mistake it for something more than it was. Still, it was progress she thought as she heard the click of Bunty's hooves following close behind her own mare's.

"I think you should put this one on a diet," Mike called out to her.

"She's a Percheron, she's supposed to be a bit wide in the hips," Chelsea called back as they began to saunter at a walking pace up the path. "Besides, I thought you liked a girl with a little junk in her trunk," she called back, turning to look back to see him swaying slowly on the back of the horse.

"When I get off this pot bellied horse of yours," he grinned back at her, "I'm going to give your junk a good spanking."

"Promises, promises," she grinned back and then gave Popcorn a squeeze with her knees, clucked with her tongue and set her mare to a trot, laughing when she heard his cry of dismay as Bunty's large frame began to suddenly move more quickly sending him bouncing like kid on a trampoline.

* * *

><p>"I had things to do today," he sighed, head tilted up to catch the sun.<p>

"I don't see a leash." Mike's hand stilled in her hair and he looked down at where her head rested in his lap to see a glazed, far-away look on her face.

"I wasn't complaining," he began and she turned her head to look up at him, her gaze suddenly focused.

"I know," she reached up and brushed her fingers along his be-whiskered chin. "I must be tired and grumpy because someone kept me up all night."

"Kept _you_ up? More like the other way around," he laughed, moving his fingers out of her hair and down into her ribs, digging them in and tickling her until they were had both rolled off of the picnic blanket and into the tall grass. "You're beautiful," he whispered, surprising himself with the gentle tone of his own voice as he brushed a curl from her cheek.

"You're just saying that because you want to get into my jeans," she grinned back at him. For about one second Mike considered agreeing and blowing it off but then his mouth started to move and words spilled out before he had a chance to edit them.

"I'm just gonna go ahead and say I think there's a little more goin' on here than sex." He waited for her to expression to soften, for her to say something back but as she squinted up into the sun the only look on her face was carefully controlled. It reminded him of the way that Backsy looked at a camera after a loss, his true emotions screwed down tight.

Mike's heart raced. He was always doing this, falling too hard, too fast, jumping in with both feet before he checked to see how deep the pool was. This was exactly why he didn't do relationships. Ever since he's passed a note to Heather Sands in fifth grade saying he liked her only to have her laugh and show it to all of her friends it seemed like he was always the one to blow his wad first and, running a mile ahead only to end up a mile behind.

He cursed quietly and went to roll away but her hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. He looked down at her hand and then at her. She wasn't wearing the soft, thoughtful expression he'd hoped for, but she _was_ smiling.

"I just got out of something that was going too fast, remember?" she whispered, pulling his lips down towards hers'. "Let's not put labels on this okay? Let's just have fun," she added, pressing her lips up against his.

At first he didn't kiss her back. He was feeling self-conscious and a little mortified by putting himself out there and being slapped back down, but when he heard her unsnap the button on the top of her jeans and she lead his hand down towards her soft, warm core, he forgot to feel anything but how much he wanted her. He knew she was using her body, the promise of sex, as a distraction, a way of avoiding the conversation he'd begun but he was too much of a boy to ignore the way the slick heat of her beneath his fingertips felt and the rush of knowing that he could make her wet and better than that, make her scream his name.

Mike pushed the thin, white t-shirt she'd changed into up over her bare breasts and cupped one in his hand, bringing her nipple to his mouth, swirled his tongue around it and sucked it between his teeth. She whimpered as he slid two fingers up into her heated pussy and lifted her hips off of the ground, trying to wiggle and force his fingers to slide to where she wanted them. Mike obliged by pressing his thumb over her clit, causing her to emit a long low wail.

Still feeling a little bruised by her rebuff, Mike was determined to make her beg for release. Abandoning her pleasure button, he concentrated instead on making her juices flow, dipping his fingers in and gently stroking that spot inside of her that made her whimper, squirm and finally hump his hand, trying to get off.

"I don't think so, not yet," he growled into her neck, pinning her with half of his chest while he used his fingers to fuck her, hard and fast. Her nails dug into the back of his neck and shoulders as he bit down on her earlobe and listened to her emit a long, high pitched whine. Her body pressed up against him and she rubbed her thigh against his erection.

"Fuck me," she whimpered and he shook his head.

"Almost, not yet" he panted, jamming his fingers up into her pussy and pressing them against her g-spot over and over again until she tipped her head back and screamed. Then, as her body went slack beneath his, he got to his knees, grabbed her jeans, yanked them off and then tossed them aside. He was reaching for his own zipper when that damn voice in the back of his head started in on how beautiful she looked with afterglow giving her skin that tinge of gold and making her green eyes glow.

She just wanted sex. He wanted to...well...more. Ignoring the sound of Brooks and Ovie laughing and calling him a pussy in the back of his head, Mike stood and offered her a hand up.

"We should probably get you back down to the house. I really do have some shit I have to do." She stared up at him like he'd just done something outrageous and rude and as much as he tried to look cool and casual Mike knew he was squirming around on the inside like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The way her eyes narrowed he knew she didn't buy it but she didn't press the point. She let him help her up but the way she snapped her jeans out of his hand when he offered them to her said a mouthful.

She was letting it go, for now, but he was firmly in the doghouse.

That was fine, he thought to himself as he rolled up the blanket and tried to stuff it back in the basket. By the time he saw her again maybe he'd have found his balls and wouldn't feel like such a fucking sissy.


	12. Chapter 12

_Take it on now girls give the eyes what they want to see  
>Take it on now girls be whatever you want to be<br>Crazy ladies, tight-ass bodies  
>Let'em know we come to party<br>Live it up now boys got your eyes on that lady  
>Live it up now cuz she won't be your baby<br>Go home lonely, leave you horny, it's a girls night after party  
>Fuck'em all cuz men don't have nothing but dicks on us<br>Fuck'em all cuz they soft then beg us to strap on us  
>Get your big "O"., no love making,<br>Let him know his bitch was fakin'_

Here's to the men we love to love  
>(Hmm I wonder who that could be?)<br>Here's to the men in love with us  
>Here's to the men who pass on us<br>Fuck the men, Let's drink to us y'all

(lyrics from "A Toast to Men" Willa Ford)

**Chapter 12**

"Fuck bro it's good to see you." Mike could clearly hear Nicky laughing as he wrapped him in an epic bear hug. Maybe there were people looking at and thinking that they were some kind of couple but right at that moment he didn't care. It was good to finally have someone around he could talk to that knew the real him.

"It's good to see you too," Nicky patted his back in return and then cleared his throat, letting Mike know he'd held on a beat too long and he unravelled himself from Nicky just in time to see Brooksy bearing down on them like a freight train.

"It's only been a couple of weeks lovebirds," he laughed as he wrapped his albatross like arms around them and leads them both towards the exit, "but the folks are starting to think this is some kind of Pride parade so let's get moving." Mike almost pointed that Calgary had already had its Pride parade but knew that would only start Brooks on a hundred reasons why he knew Mike would know that and decided to keep his mouth shut. "Point me in the direction of the nearest watering hole," he added as they stepped out into the dry heat, "they didn't have any beer on that flight."

"I thought we'd hit my place, relax...," Mike began but Brooksy's long groan cut him off.

"But I want cowgirls and beer now!" he whined like a child and then laughed as he tossed his clubs and bag into the back of Mike's vehicle. "C'mon you have to give me something to do while you two fags kiss and cuddle."

"Speaking of cowgirls," Mike began self consciously as he slipped behind the wheel. He glanced in the rear view mirror at Brooks who knew better than to call shotgun. When it came to a choice between his two best friends on the team, it was going to be Nicky every time. Unless of course Ovie was part of the entourage in which case everyone just automatically became second fiddle to the great eight.

"Please tell me you already have some total hotties lined up," Brooks' reflection grinned back at him and Mike slid down in his seat as he aimed the car back into traffic.

"Not exactly," he mumbled, shoulder checking before merging with traffic. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Nicky watching him wearing that expression on his face that the blonde Swede wears when he knows one of his friends is about to do or say something off colour, something that stretches his sensitive Scandinavian sensibilities. "Jezuuuz no I don't have a harem waiting back at the house," Mike laughs, the idea of it easing the tension immediately as all three of them laugh. "It's this...do you remember that red head from the club?" He glances over at Nicky and then, more hopefully, towards Brooks who, of the two of them, would be more likely to remember a woman as beautiful as Chelsea.

"Fuck, don't tell me you caught something," Brooks immediately slid back in his seat as if whatever contagion Mike had it might be airborne.

"Ha ha," Mike grumbled as he gunned the engine and sent the Cadillac surging forward.

"You can't get her out of your head?" Nicky prompted quietly. Mike shot a grateful look across the car at his friend while Brooks made retching sounds in the back seat.

"We've been uh...seeing each other." Shooting a quick look in the rear view mirror Mike caught the look of shock on Brooksy's face that he'd expected. There were a lot of single guys playing for the Caps and they had a lot of fun chasing skirt. "I know, it's a surprise to me too," he sighed, knowing that there was no more explanation needed than what he'd already given. If any of them saw a girl more than twice, it was serious. "Just one problem," he added, this time keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead, "I don't think she wants a relationship." Mike winced when he heard the contemptuous snort from behind him but a sidelong glance at his road roommate's expression told him that Nicky didn't find his agony funny.

"And you do, with this girl?" Nicky asked, causing Brooks to snort even louder and pound on the back of the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I do."

* * *

><p>"Where do you keep your birth control pills?"<p>

"Good morning to you too," her friend Shannon called as Chelsea's stormed into her apartment, grabbed her purse and began rifling through it. "I don't keep them in there, they're in the bathroom and exactly what are you going to do with them?" Shannon asked as she followed Chelsea down the hallway.

"I made a stupid, _stupid_ mistake," Chelsea grumbled as she began tossing the contents of one of the vanity's drawers like an amateur thief.

"They make a pill for that. You can ask for it at the pharmacy," Shannon intoned as she leaned in the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed, watching the scene in front of her with an amused expression on her face. "Or you could always buy your own," she pointed out as Chelsea ripped into the blister pack, upturning it and shaking tiny white pills out onto the dark green granite counter top.

"Yeah well, that would require me to go to the doctor, get in the stirrups, be lectured about using protection and having a speculum stuck up my hoochie and I don't have time for that," Chelsea replied, scooping half a dozen pills into her hand and lifting them all towards her mouth.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ girl. Let's not get carried away." Shannon reached for Chelsea's hand and kept her from tipping the pills into her mouth. "You only need to take like three," she instructed in a tone that sounded a lot like the voice of experience, "and before you do, d'ya wanna tell me what's going on?" Chelsea opened her hand and stared down at the small pills and signed.

"I told you, I made a stupid mistake." Her friend wrapped her arms around her and they stood there, in the middle of the tiny bathroom in silence while Chelsea tried to figure out how to explain the mess she was in. Finally, as Shannon reached for the glass beside the sink, filled it half way and handed it to her, Chelsea looked at her friend and just started to talk.

"I knew when I came back from D.C...I mean Jimmy and I agreed that when I was there I was a free agent but when I came back we were going to talk about, y'know, forever and stuff and when I left I was actually looking forward to it," she began, following Shannon out of the bathroom and into the kitchen where she dropped into a chair at the table while her friend hopped up onto the counter.

"I know you were. You were already looking at bridal magazines," Shannon agreed, swinging her denim clad legs as she listened. Chelsea heaved a sigh, dropped the pills on the table beside the glass and stared at them.

"But then everything was so different in D.C. I mean...it wasn't all shovelling shit and trail rides. There were parties and meetings and shopping and...I felt like a totally different person there. More...I don't know, grown up I guess." Chelsea looked over at her friend and watched her dark curls bob as she nodded.

"And then there was the one night stand," Shannon prompted in that tone that should always be followed by that '_dun dun duh'_ drama sound effect and Chelsea went back to staring at the pills.

'Yeah, Mike," she agreed, her shoulders slumping.

"So he has a name." Chelsea looked up, tilted her head to the side and swept her hair back from her neck, displaying the livid love bite he'd left behind. Her friend gasped. "Wait...he wasn't a one night stand?" Chelsea shook her head.

"It turns out he's from here and...fuck!" Her hands curled into fists on her lap as she thought about the way they'd left things. "I like him...a lot," she admitted while trying not to laugh at the almost comical look of shock and surprise on her friend's face.

"Oh my god, does Jimmy know?" Shannon jumped off of the counter and pulled up a chair beside the one Chelsea was currently occupying.

"Yeah and god damn him, he's being really good about it," Chelsea complained, leaning on the table and dropping her head into her hands. "Just when I think I don't feel anything for him anymore, he sits there and blames himself. He actually asked me if he should wait for me. Now what am I supposed to say to _that_?"

"You know what you need," Shannon leaned forward and tapped Chelsea on the top of the head. "You need a girls' night out. No men allowed. I'm calling Mandy and Tracey and we are going Vinyl. No," she shook her finger at her friend when Chelsea looked like she was going to argue, "we are going and that's final."

* * *

><p>"I keep forgetting how much I like this city during Stampede," Brooks arrived back at the table with a very drunk, very giggly scantily clad girl under each arm and a broad grin on his face. Under normal circumstances Mike was usually happy to see Brooks or Ovie rounding up fresh tail but tonight he wasn't in the mood to be fawned over by girls wearing too much make up and smelling like tequila. Speaking of which...<p>

"Bottoms up." Mike tipped his shot glass against Nicky's and they both downed the silver fire at the same time. Nicky coughed and immediately went for the lime wedge. Mike enjoyed the burn, feeling it scorching his insides all the way down into his stomach. Licking his lips he looked for the lime wedge that had just been where the shot glass's wet ring still decorated the table, his hand hovering over the empty spot.

"Right here cowboy." Mike turned towards the source of the voice and watched as the lime wedge was pressed against smooth tanned flesh towards a belly button decorated by a diamond dangle. He was drunk, but not that drunk. Not yet.

"No thanks," he muttered, reaching for the bottle as he ignored the bite the Gran Patron had left at the back of his throat and poured another shot for himself before holding the bottle out towards Nicky.

"Hey, I brought presents," Brooks complained as he slid onto one of the bar stools, his consorts, feeling unwanted disappearing back into the crowded dance floor.

"Shot?" Mike offered his full glass which Brooks shook off.

"C'mon man, you've sat there like a bump on a log all night and there's a whole dance floor full of hot drunk women who want to show their appreciation for that last round of drinks you bought." Mike filled his shot glass, held it up, looked his friend right in the eye and then tipped his head back and let the tequila slither down his throat like liquid flame. His head was beginning to pound but other than that, the three hundred dollars he'd laid down for this bottle and who knows how much Brooks had put on his credit card had done absolutely nothing to make him forget about Chelsea.

"You should call her," Nickey yelled into his ear as a group of women went running, shrieking towards the dance floor as some old B-52s song came on.

"No," Mike replied, shaking his head. "Iz ssstupid. Have any girl. I'm too young to die," he mumbled, reaching for the bottle again. Nicky slid it out of his reach. Brooks grabbed it.

"I think you've had enough of this little buddy," the big forward patted Mike's head affectionately with his free hand. "I'm going to put this to good use elsewhere." Turning, Brooks bopped into the crowd, holding the expensive bottle over his head like he'd won the damn cup and the crowd greeted him like he had too.

"Maybe we _should_ dance,' Nicky offered, his gaze also following their teammate as he tipped the bottle against a dark beauty's full red lips. "Sweat off the alcohol," he added, getting to his feet and offering Mike a hand up. Mike shook his head.

"Tell the bartender to bring more tequila."

* * *

><p>"Shots, shots, shots," Mandy pounded the bar as the bartender poured more 151 into the glasses in front of them, shaking his head the entire time.<p>

"Oh god, what did I let you talk me into?" Chelsea laughed, grabbing her glass and holding it up to her girlfriends who each grabbed theirs in turn. "Fuck the men let's drink to us!"

"Ladies, ladies, what is with the negative vibe?" Chelsea felt a heavy arm settle over her shoulder followed by a light gust of Envy cologne. "I can't have such beautiful women feeling pessimistic. I'm going to make it my personal responsibility to turn your opinions around." Chelsea glanced sideways at a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes. '_No, no, no'_, she thought as she forced her attention forward, '_haven't you got yourself in enough trouble already'_ He was cute though, in that Jason Stathom sort of way, dangerous but dangerous enough to toss him out of bed sort of way.

"And what are you gonna do to change our minds about all men being douchebags?" Shannon asked, turning so that she was leaning back against the bar, which made her boobs stick out farther, a fact the tall, ruggedly handsome, tequila bearing blue eyed looker hadn't failed to notice.

"Well you, for a start," he grinned at her and Shannon grinned right back. If he thought he was going to catch her off guard he'd been sadly mistaken. "And you, next or...maybe at the same time?" he added, giving Chelsea's a little hip check and letting his hand roam a little further south than her shoulder so that it rested on the swell of her breast. "Whaddya say girls? Wanna take this party somewhere more...intimate?" It was the kind of come on line that should have ended up with him getting smacked, but the dimples and guileless expression in his eyes somehow made it not only acceptable, but sexy.

Shannon raised her eyebrows at Chelsea as if to ask if she wanted to a moment before her head was pulled sharply backwards, her dark curls tugged downwards, held in the fist of a furious looking curvaceous little brunette. Always quick with her reflexes Shannon tilted her drink over her shoulder, directly into the face of her assailant. It was on.

"Bitch!"

"Whore!"

"He's mine!"

"I don't see a ring!"

"Slut!"

"Cunt!"

"Damn," the tall, broad shouldered handsome stranger steered Chelsea away from the hair tugging, face slapping girl fight and put his body between her and the melee. "Sorry about that. I've only been seeing her for a couple weeks. She's kind of territorial," he explained with the kind of smile that said he liked being fought over. Chelsea rolled her eyes. "So, what do you say, while they're otherwise occupied do you want to slip out of here and..." He never got to finish the thought that had his summer sky blue eyes twinkling with mischief. His face spun, a set of knuckles embedded in his cheek. He raised his hand and rubbed at what Chelsea thought should have been a bone shattering blow and though his smile faded at the edges, it didn't disappear entirely. "Damn Greener, what the fuck?" Chelsea spun and found herself face to face with a livid Mike, his dark eyes pinned to the man now behind her.

"Are you fucking hitting on her? Seriously man? Fucking _seriously_?" She blinked up at his baby face, distorted entirely by rage and, she thought, hurt. She had the overwhelming urge to smooth away then tension making his full lips appear thin, his hooded eyes almost black. Reaching out, she pressed her hand to the middle of his chest to hold him back. She could still hear the shrill voices and intermittent screams from behind them and didn't think anyone would be available to pull the two men apart if they decided to go and besides, she thought as she put both of her hands on his chest, she wasn't sure Mike could take him.

"No man I swear. Okay, well maybe a _little_ but I didn't know I swear," the guy stuttered and as Chelsea looked over her shoulder she thought that he was laughing. It made her want to take a swipe at him herself.

"I told you how I feel man. Why don't you just stick a knife in my guts man?" Chelsea turned and looked up into Mike's dark eyes. The fury had almost entirely leaked out, replaced by pure, unadulterated anguish.

"You know him? You know each other?" It was a moot question really, but she felt the need to inject herself between the two men from whom testosterone was practically leaking out of every pore.

"Yeah, he's supposed to be a friend," Mike growled and then reaching up he took her hand in his, turned and dragged her through the crowd.

* * *

><p>"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked, making a sudden stop and spinning her around to face him. She stumbled, reached out and put her hands against the trunk of some old Lincoln pimpmobile. His heart hammered in his chest and the beginning of a migraine was making his head pound. She was looking at him now, wide eyed but hadn't answered him. "If you are, just tell me," he asked, wincing when he heard a note in his voice that sounded like he was pleading.<p>

"Break up with you?" She raised her hand and tried, without success, to hide a grin behind it. Mike steeled himself, preparing to be laughed at. '_First Brooks and now her'_, he thought as bit down on her bottom lip, obviously trying not to laugh at him. He curled his hands into fists and looked away. It was the tequila, he told himself as he fought the urge to fish in his pockets for his keys and find the nearest culvert to drive into. "I'm sorry." He felt her hands on his back and stiffened. This was when she was going to let him down easy and he reminded himself that it was his own fault for jumping in with his two stupid left feet. "Mike," she coaxed, moving around his body like she was made of water, not flesh and bone, her body, warm and soft, wrapping around his. "I was trying to keep things casual. I thought that's what we both wanted." Mike stared at the silent cars in the parking lot around them, clenching his teeth. He should agree, keep it light, but he couldn't. It was definitely the tequila's fault. The shit was like truth serum. He could no more lie to her about how he felt than go back inside and dance a fucking jig.

"I want you," he whispered. He glanced down into her upturned gaze. She was smiling at him. He wanted to kiss her, _really badly, _even if she was going to laugh at him. Casual, it was what he was supposed to want but he didn't. Not with her.

"Here?" she ran her hand down and gave his ass a playful smack. "In the parking lot?" she added, batting her eyes at him like she'd never consider it when the expression in her eyes and the way her sensuous mouth turned up at the corners said she already was. He should have corrected her, he even wanted to say that it wasn't a good idea but his body was already racing ahead of his brain that was, even now, forming images of having her, of being _inside_ of her.

He heard himself, albeit hoarsely, tell her yes and then he was kissing her and backing her up towards the wide expanse of the trunk of that shiny black Lincoln. She squeaked when he turned her around and pressed her, face down, against the trunk of that old car but the sound she made was only surprise, not an objection he knew as he slid his hand up between her thighs and felt the heat radiating from beneath her panties. Sliding a finger inside of the black lace, it came away covered in her sticky juices.

"Was it hot," he hissed into her ear as he pressed his body against hers', "having Brooks hit on you? Did you want him?"

"No," she replied but something in her voice told him her answer was a lie.

"I think you did," he growled, using one hand to open his jeans and free his dick. He held it in his hand while, with his other hand, he grabbed a handful of her red curls and tugged. "I think you wanted him to fuck you." He waited for her to deny it but instead her full lips curled into a slow, sexy smile.

"Maybe. He _is_ cute," she replied, her steely gaze holding his like a challenge, like a threat. Mike felt like he was choking on his own pride as he examined her expression, tasting the nuances of the resentment and lust he saw in her eyes on his tongue. "What is with you," she hissed back at him, her eyes raking over him so slowly that he wanted to squirm under their scrutiny. "Are you really that insecure or do you really think I'm just a big fuckin' slut?"

The honest answer was that he didn't want to answer that question on the basis that if he did she'd probably slap him and he'd deserve it. Even though she'd slept with him without so much as exchanging names he knew that Chelsea wasn't really _that_ kind of girl. It was one of the reasons that he was out in the dark parking lot with her now. It was one of the reasons he hadn't just fucked her already.

"I don't want to share you," he admitted, looking down at where the soft draped black fabric of the short cocktail dress she was wearing had ridden up over her ass where his body was pressed against hers'. If she was going to laugh at him being a pussy he didn't want to see it. "Not with your ex, not with Brooks, not with anyone."

"I don't want to fuck anyone else." Her voice was softer and when he looked at her she was looking at him in a way he didn't remember any woman ever looking at him before. There was a kind of tenderness in her eyes that he hadn't seen there before. "I like you Mike," she added, with that sort of shy smile that he remembered from that bar in D.C., the one that had made him want her and it had the same effect now. "I like _you_ and I want _you, _okay?_" _He nodded and backed up, letting her off of the trunk as he pulled his jeans closed. He was carefully pulling up the zipper when he saw her hand cover his, stilling it. "That doesn't have to go away, does it?" He looked into her eyes and the tenderness that had just been there was gone, replaced by the fire that the playful sex kitten always ignited when she came out to play. It wasn't what he wanted but it was something.

"I guess not," he whispered, tipping her lips up to his and capturing her mouth in a long, soft kiss as he drew her body against his.


	13. Chapter 13

_Just tonight I will stay  
>And we'll throw it all away<br>When the light hits your eyes  
>It's telling me I'm right<br>And if I, I am through  
>Then it's all because of you<br>Just tonight_

_Here I am and I can't seem to see straight_  
><em>But I'm too numb to feel right now<em>  
><em>Here I am watching the clock that's ticking away my time<em>  
><em>I'm too numb to feel right now<em>

(lyrics from 'Just Tonight' by the Pretty Reckless)

**Chapter 13**

Chelsea leaned against the headboard, her knees pulled up to her chest, watching Mike sleep. A fine line of drool hung from the corner of his mouth, which was turned up in a satisfied smile. A blow job in the cramped back seat of his Caddy had been interrupted by Shannon dragging Mike's friend Nick behind her to the car and insisting that they go 'somewhere else'. Of course they'd made up for it by the time they'd got back to his place. Her jaw ached a little but afterward Mike had fallen immediately into a deep sleep, curled around his pillow and was currently looking entirely contented and somehow, that made it worth it.

For herself, she couldn't sleep. She hadn't even tried.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

What she'd wanted was some space and some time to build a wall up around her heart, dig a moat and put some battlements in place before Mike breached every last one of her defences. But right at that moment, as he made a contented noise in his sleep and unconsciously moved closer to her, she knew she hadn't lost the war but she _was_ losing the battle.

So much for her independence.

She knew now that was what her father had hoped when he'd asked her to come to D.C., though at the time he'd made it sound as though it was only for his benefit and not hers. Still, here she was squandering the tiniest measure of autonomy she'd gained, seemingly ready to hand herself over to a man she hardly knew.

Mike was worming his way into her heart, a truth she knew as her hand hovered over his sleeping form as she fought the urge to run her fingers through his thick, unruly hair. It seemed like the blink of an eye since that night in D.C. when she'd seen his shy, self depreciating smile. It had been like the flash of a match being lit and nothing like the slow burn, the long, winding trail of gunpowder that Jimmy had used to lead her to his heart.

Jimmy had been as patient with her as he had with any skittish filly. His easy smile and affection had been like sugar cubes, doled out in careful, small measures. He'd taken his time wooing her, just as if he'd been breaking a young horse to a saddle. One day she'd been all legs and teeth and wild as a feral colt and the next she'd followed Jimmy around like a well domesticated young mare.

He'd been her anchor in her storm when her mother had died. Had it not been for him, the horses wouldn't have been fed and the ranch would have fallen apart around them. She'd made him her whole world after her mother's death, to the detriment of more than one friendship and she'd probably missed out on activities usually enjoyed by teenage girls like sleepovers, dances and dating. But she'd never questioned it, even once, until she'd seen that shy, self depreciating smile whose shadow was still on Mike's lips now as she stroked his cheek with her fingertips.

But was it fair to give her heart to this man she hardly knew, she wondered as she watched him sleeping so soundlessly, as if he didn't have a care in the world, beside her. It certainly wasn't fair to withhold it from him; she knew that much after tonight.

Sliding from the bed, she went to his chest of drawers and slowly, as silently as she could, opened each until she found a pile of colourful boxers with seasonal and other amusing themes on them. She picked one pair, covered in cupids and hearts that looked to be several sizes too small for the intended wearer. She wondered if they'd been a gift, maybe from another woman who didn't reckon on the thick, muscular thighs and massive skater's haunches. She slid them on and then she picked one of his t-shirts, a plain gray one with a small Caps logo on the sleeves and pulled it over her head.

Padding barefoot down the darkened hallway, she glanced into one of the guest rooms where her friend was sprawled, face down, across the bed, barely covered by a thin sheet, alone. So Mike's Swedish friend had bailed. Shannon would be pissed in the morning but Chelsea didn't see any need to wake her now. Any decision she made, she'd have to make on her own. In the kitchen she took down a tall glass and filled it with cold water from a jug in the fridge.

"I have trouble sleeping in a new bed." Chelsea froze, the glass tipped to her lips. "We sleep in hotels all the time. I should be used to it by now." She turned and found the dough faced blonde Shannon had been playing tonsil hockey with in the back seat of Mike's Cadillac. "He likes you...Mike," his Swedish teammate added in his quiet lisp, his attention turned back to the toast on the plate in front of him.

"And _I_ like _him_," she responded, staring down into the empty sink. Why did admitting something so simple make her palms sweat, she wondered as put the glass down on the counter and wiped her hands down her thighs.

"No, I mean he's sweet on you," Nick prompted. Chelsea glanced sideways at him. "Brooks is one of his best friends. I've never even seen the two of them have one cross word and Mike was going to fight him over you...that's something." He picked up the piece of toast and looked at her over it as he lifted it to his mouth and then, as if the question had just come to his mind, he put the piece of toast back down on the plate. "He says you don't want a relationship with him. Is that right?"

Chelsea took her glass over to the table, sat down across from the young Swede and reached over to snag a piece of toast. She chewed on what she had thought was going to be just buttered toast. It turned out to be cinnamon and sugar. She eyed the thoughtful looking young man across the table, trying to decide if she could trust him, especially considering that she hadn't decided if she could trust Mike yet.

"I'll tell you something," Nick began again, as if he'd decided she wasn't going to answer him, "Mike and I...we are good friends. I know him, I think, very well. I wouldn't be happy if he got hurt." Chelsea lifted what was left of the piece of toast she was holding and tried to hide the sudden grin that broke out on her face. She could easily imagine any of her friends, especially Shannon and Mandy, giving the exact same speech to Mike, albeit with several colourful examples of how they'd go about slowly dismembering him.

"I wish I could promise I won't do that," Chelsea sighed, taking another bite of the sweetened toast and chewing thoughtfully before continuing, "but I seem to be doing a lot of that kind of thing lately." Nicky just looked at her for a long moment and then nodded his head.

"At least you're honest," he sighed, but didn't look happy about her answer. He pushed the last piece of toast around on his plate. Chelsea watched it, her stomach rumbling. She couldn't remember the last thing she'd had to eat.

"He knows I'm just getting out of something. This was...he was supposed to just be a...a...," she grimaced as she tried to think of how she could explain what it was she was trying to say.

"Sex with no strings," the Swede smiled, just a little bit, and raised an eyebrow. Chelsea shrugged, silently agreeing. She wouldn't have been quite that blunt about it but his explanation worked. Nicky nodded and then pushed the plate across the table towards her. "But now...?" he prompted as she took a bite of the last piece of cinnamon toast.

"But now I like him, more than I wanted to," she admitted with a sigh. "And I broke off my engagement...not just for him but...I think _he_ thinks maybe that I did." Nicky got up and moved towards the toaster. Her stomach thanked him.

"So what will you do?" Nicky asked. Chelsea turned in her chair and looked up at him. It was her turn to raise her eyebrows.

"Do?" she asked. He dropped two pieces of toast into the toaster and then walked over to the fridge where he pulled out a tub of margarine, put it on the counter and then turned and leaned on the counter, crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at her.

"He likes you, a lot. So, what will you do?"

* * *

><p>Mike woke sometime deep in the night, when the house felt still, as if time had slowed down to a crawl. He felt cool, not cold, but there was definitely a breeze blowing across his skin. Opening one eye he noted that the window had been thrown open and the diaphanous drapes were floating on the cool night air like the grasping hands of spectral entities. '<em>Chels must have opened the window'<em> he thought as he watched their gentle rise and fall.

Rolling over, he reached for her but where he'd expected to find warm, smooth skin his hands only slid across the cool fabric of the fitted sheet. She wasn't there and by the temperature of the sheet beneath his hand, hadn't been for quite some time.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut and cursed. He'd probably run her off by coming on too strong. Silently berating himself he reached for his phone but as soon as his fingers closed around it he realized he didn't know what he was going to say. If she'd left with her friend it was unlikely she'd come back, even if he asked, and worse, if she'd called that cowboy of hers' there was no way in hell she was coming back, probably ever.

Letting go of his phone, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He sucked at this. He wasn't cut out for relationships. Ovie was right. He should stick to one night stands, preferably at the girls place she he could be the one making the midnight dash for freedom.

"Taking up the whole bed now?" Mike's head swivelled to face the door of his en-suite to see her leaning there, one of those cheap toothbrushes you get at the dentist in her hand.

"I...I thought you'd left." He knew he sounded eager and he could imagine the keener expression he had to be wearing as he looked at her. Not that he could help it. Her legs looked amazing in those boxers. He thought he liked them better than any frilly thong.

"In the middle of the night?" She turned and went back into the bathroom. He heard the sound of water running and listened to the normal everyday sound of her brushing her teeth and tried to remember if any woman he'd brought to this house, or his place in D.C. had ever done that. He doubted it.

As she came back to the bed he pulled the sheet back and made room for her. She crawled across the bed and reached out to run her fingertips over the tat on his shoulder. He felt goose-bumps chase her touch as she followed the dark lines.

"I love you." The words practically jumped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. '_You've done it now'_ he thought as her gaze remained riveted to his shoulder. He froze, waiting for her to shoot him down but instead, very slowly, her gaze lifted to meet his, shyly, through her eyelashes.

"I'm falling for you too," she told him quietly. He felt his heart beat, for what seemed like the first time in days. "I just need a little...time," she added. He felt like one of those dogs that hop around your feet and bark for attention, their tails wagging enthusiastically. He wanted to grab her and kiss her all over. It took all of his training, all of the years of learning to outwait his opponent, forcing them to make the first move, to stop himself from grabbing her like a present on Christmas morning and ripping her clothes off.

"I don't think I've ever said that anyone before...except maybe my mom," he admitted as he reached over to touch her cheek, to draw her lips to his.

"Then I'll cherish hearing it even more," she whispered and then let him kiss her.

How many girls..._women_ had he kissed? He couldn't remember, had probably lost count by the time he was eighteen. Now, as he kissed her, it felt like he'd never kissed a girl before. He felt awkward and his hand shook as he cupped her cheek. His heart raced like it had when he was thirteen kissing Annie Baker on the back seat of the school bus. He felt her fingers splay on his chest on the spot over his heart and wondered if she could feel it.

He kissed her onto her back and felt her body fit neatly under his. He palmed her breast through the soft cotton of the t-shirt and wanted to ask how it could be that everything about her could be so perfect. '_You're going soft in the head you pussy'_ he told himself as he kissed his way down her neck, '_you'll be writing fucking poetry next'_ he added silently as his other hand slid up her thigh.

She gasped as his fingers slid under the material of the boxer shorts and in between her velveteen pussy lips. He found that little bundle of nerve endings, cartilage and soft pink skin and rolled it between his fingers until she groaned. He rubbed it gently as he mouthed her nipple through the t-shirt and felt her dig her fingers into his hair. Her warm, slippery juices began to flow and he dipped his fingers into her entrance and drew them out again, lubricating her clit as he made slow, gentle circles around it.

She'd pulled her knees up and now, as he nipped and tugged at her nipple through the cotton t-shirt, she humped his hand, trying to get him to slide his fingers back down. His red haired minx liked to fuck and he wanted, very badly, to give her what she wanted but first he wanted her to give up the upper hand for once.

"Do you want it? Do you want my dick in your pussy?" he asked, using one hand to push her t-shirt up while the other continued to play slip and slide in her honey pot.

"Yessss," she hissed, her hips arching off of the mattress as he slid two fingers up inside of her.

"Then you have to come for me. I want you all slippery and hot when I fuck you," he told her as he lowered his mouth towards her breasts. He blew across one of her blush pink nipples and watched it tighten before he covered it with his mouth. He sucked that hard little nub into his mouth and listened to her whimper as he slid his fingers out of her tight little cunt and finger painted her clit with her own juices. His balls were aching. He hoped she was close.

"Oh, oh _fuck_...harrrdderrr, yessss!" He rubbed her clit hard, harder than he thought would feel good but she lifted her hips even higher and let out a long, high pitched squeal and then collapsed back onto the bed, her thighs quivering. He brushed curls that were the colour of autumn leaves off of her cheeks and gazed down at her. Her skin was glowing. He didn't think there was anything on earth as beautiful as this woman right this minute.

"Don't just stare at me," she muttered, her eyes still closed. "You promised, now fuck me."

"No," he replied quietly, pressing his lips to each of her closed eyelids in turn and then gently capturing her mouth with his. "I'm not going to fuck you." Her eyes snapped open and her top lip curled but when she opened her mouth to protest, he only kissed her again as he gently tugged the boxers down until she could kick them off. "I'm going to make love to my girlfriend," he whispered against her cheek, not wanting to look into her gaze as he said it. He felt his cheeks get pink. '_Why am I embarrassed about that?_' he wondered as he moved his lips to her other breast and rolled his tongue around her nipple. It felt right to say but the words tasted strange on his tongue. Mike eased his way between her thighs and when he looked down at her, tears glimmered in her green eyes. "What...what's this about?" he asked, reaching down to cradle her face in both of his hands.

"It's just...it's so much Mike," she sniffed, turning her face away and trying to hide in his hand. He kissed her cheek and the corner of her eye and tasted salt on his tongue.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked and she immediately shook her head.

"No, no don't stop," she whispered against his hand and then pressed her lips to his palm. Mike watched her face as he slid slowly inside of her. He watched first as her eyes squeezed shut, then as her pretty mouth went slack. "Ohhhhh gaaawwwdddd," she sighed, her lips slipping over his thumb as he buried himself to the hilt in her tight, warm embrace. Her arms slid around his neck and he felt her drag her heels up the back of his thighs as he rocked into her.

"Damn baby, you feel so fucking good," he whispered to her, still cradling her face, his lips brushing her cheek, the corner of her jaw. "So hot and wet and tight. God I love being inside you," he told her, his lips brushing against the curve of her ear where a tiny diamond blinked in the dark. He rolled his hips and listened for her sharp intake of breath. "Is it good baby?" he asked and she nodded, finally turning to face him, real silvery tears sliding down her cheeks.

"So good," she whispered and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. '_So fucked'_ he told himself as he lowered his lips over hers. '_You are so fucking fucked'_ he added as his tongue wrapped itself around hers.

"I love you Chels," he whispered against her lips as she sighed, her head tipping back, offering the long, pale line of her throat. He kissed his way down from the soft, thin skin just below her jaw to the hard ridge of her collarbone as their bodies slowly rocked together.

"I love you too," she whispered back, her voice going up and becoming a soft, strangled cry as her entire body began to shake beneath his. He buried his face in her neck and hid his own tears as he let go and gave her everything he had, body and soul.

_okay okay, I know, I almost got a cavity writing it but you know me, if it's this good, it won't stay that way long! stay tuned_


	14. Chapter 14

_just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
>that's alright because i like the way it hurts<br>just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
>that's alright because i love the way you lie<br>i love the way you lie_

_you ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe  
>when you with em you meet and neither one of you even know what hit em<br>got that warm fuzzy feeling  
>yeah them chills used to get em<br>now you're getting fuckin' sick of lookin' at em  
>you swore you'd never hit em, never do nothin' to hurt em<br>now you're in each other's face spewin' venom in your words when you spit em_

_(lyrics from 'Love the Way You Lie' Eminem)_

**Chapter 14**

"Is anyone else creeped out by the shit eating grin on Greener's face?" Brooks didn't even look up as he stood over the dimpled white ball on the tee. He shuffled his feet, steadied his shoulders and then gazed down the fairway. "I feel like I could play in the fucking dark by the light of that thing," the big man added, bringing his iron up and back and then, with grace and force, brought it down in a perfect arch, sending the little white ball up and out. They all shaded their eyes to watch it go. All except Brooks who just turned and headed back to the cart.

Mike sent a sheepish look towards the gray haired, paunch over his belt business man who stepped up to the tee next. Everyone, just as they had the last eight holes, held their breath while he bent over and stuck the tee in the ground. They had a bet going on how many holes it would take before the seam on his pants gave out.

"I'm just surprised that he's not hungover and leaning on the car for dear life," the other businessman who'd paid to play with the two hockey professionals knew Mike, had worked with Mike on setting up this event and shot him a shrewd look as they stood back, waiting for the old guy to take a swing. "How many times have I met you now Mike, and every time it seems to me, you've been hung over."

"That's just my face," Mike gulped as he tried to defend himself. "My mom says I just look tired all the time. I can't help that I look that way," he added, shading his eyes to follow the arc of the ball as it headed directly for the sand bunker ahead of them. He winced. The banker was his partner. Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to where Brooksy was leaning against the cart told him just how far behind he and his partner were. This was going to end up being an expensive game.

"Except for today," the Encana oil exec and Brooks' partner pointed out as he took his own ball up to the box and bent to neatly place it and the tee in front of him. "Today you look well rested and like you've won the lottery," he added as he straightened, gazed down the green and then settled himself over the ball. "So are the rumours true," he added as he bent his knees and squared his shoulders over the tee, "are you getting traded to the Leafs?"

Mike had lifted his water bottle to his lips and now spewed luke warm water towards the oil executive's back. Luckily Grant hadn't begun his swing and was able to step back from the tee as he shot Mike a dark look. Mike offered a towel from his bag as he sent a questioning looks to Brooks, who only shrugged and made a face as if to say '_it's just a rumour'_ and one he obviously hadn't given much thought to.

"I fucking hope not. I've just gotten my place in DC the way I like it," Mike muttered as Grant handed him back the towel.

"There's always rumours this time of year," Brooks called helpfully, closing his eyes as he tilted his face up towards the sun. "Besides, now that I'm about to sign a big motherfucking long term contract with the Caps, Mike can't leave."

"You are?" Mike had the sudden urge to run and jump into Brooks' arms. He'd been dreading the first of July for that one reason alone, loosing Brooks to free agency. Brooks nodded but continued to worship the warm rays of the afternoon sun. "You never said," Mike added, to which his teammate's only reply was to shrug his wide shoulders.

"You never asked. All you've talked about since you picked us up at the airport is Chelsea this and Chelsea that which," he added with a mischievous grin, "I'm assuming is what the big fucking shit eating grin is for. You get lucky last night Greener?" Mike felt heat effuse his entire face. He wasn't much of a duffer but he was glad to step up to the tee box, if only so that he could turn his back on Brooks and the smug look on his face. "I don't know why I'm asking," Brooks called catching Mike on his downswing, "Nicky said he heard you two love birds whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears when he went back to bed."

Mike checked his swing and dropped the club on the ground as he turned to Brooks with murder in his eyes. It was one thing to talk about this kind of stuff around the dressing room. It was something else altogether to talk about his private life in front of complete strangers.

"Oh c'mon Mikey, he's just teasing you," Grant tried to offer Mike his club back but he shook him off. If he took it right now he might wind it around his friend's throat.

"Yeah, _Mikey_," Brooks grinned, nonchalantly marking his score on his card while he grinned like the Cheshire fucking cat, "if you wanna get tied down and get married to some hometown cowgirl and have a whole mess of brats, I'm super behind you buddy." The flash of humour in his friend's blue eyes suggested what he was saying was harmless but Mike didn't believe it, not for a minute. He knew as well as anyone who had spent any time with Brooks how much he enjoyed being free, sampling the wares, playing the field. More than that, Mike knew how terrified Brooks had been when a girl had shown up one night with a positive pregnancy test in hand, saying it was his. It hadn't been, but that scare had been enough to make Brooks a confirmed bachelor for life and it was a lifestyle that most of the guys on the team had bought into. Today had been the first day of his life that Mike had actually thought about a future with someone. It hadn't seemed scary at all.

"It gets us all some time," the banker laid his hand on Mike's shoulder and gave him a friendly pat. "In my experience it's not so bad," he added and gave him an encouraging smile before heading towards the cart. Mike finally took his club from Grant's hand and took his frustration out on the ball, sending it wide and aiming for the same trees that his partner's ball had disappeared into.

* * *

><p>"Hey babe!" She felt his arms around her middle, his cheek press against hers and then he was gone, taking something off of the plate she'd just put down on the table and walking away. Chelsea watched him go, feeling bereft.<p>

"Look at him, king of the fucking castle," Shannon hissed, coming up behind her friend and staring daggers at Mike's back.

"Well there _are_ a lot of people. I guess he has to be the 'hostest with the mostest'," Chelsea muttered. She'd said that a couple of times now and she knew she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. Another complete stranger who looked like he'd seen too much sun today reached past her and grabbed a devilled egg from a plate, stuck the whole thing in his mouth and then smiled around it so that the filling seeped out between his teeth and gave her a thumbs-up before disappearing back into the crowd.

"Has he introduced you to anyone? Or did he just leave you with a shopping list and expect you to be the hired help for the night? To be seen and not heard?" Chelsea didn't look across the table to where her friend Mandy had appeared with yet more beer to stick into the tub of ice near the door.

"I'm his girlfriend. I...I don't mind." She didn't believe it when she said it and a quick glance at both of her friends told her they clearly thought it was crap too.

"I say you go over there, sit on his fucking lap and make out with him in front of all of these people so they know that you're not the fucking caterer," Shannon snapped. The same idea had already occurred to her but Chelsea had decided against it. Instead she was still waiting for Mike to take two minutes and do something for her other than eat the food she'd spent all day slaving over while he was at a golf tournament.

"It is for charity," she mumbled, reminding herself why she'd volunteered at a weak moment to do this when he'd realized he'd forgotten to hire an actual caterer. His friends did seem to like the food she'd prepared.

"No, the golf tournament was for charity, these are just his friends," Nicky corrected her, appearing at Shannon's side as if he'd just been transported there out of thin air. He cradled her friend's waist and looked down at her as if she was one of the chocolate cherry filled cupcakes on the table. Chelsea felt a pang of jealousy. Shannon had helped, of course, but only Nicky seemed to be grateful for it. Or maybe he was just grateful for her friend's recent wax job. "And I will go remind him that he should be including you in his friends," Mike's teammate added, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Shannon's head.

"No, no don't do that," Chelsea shook her head while giving him a grateful smile. "He's busy. I mean he hasn't seen some of these people in months," she began but Nicky shook his head and held up a hand to silence her.

"I love Mike like a brother but he is being very ungracious." As if that was all there was to say, he turned and was immediately swallowed by the crowd. Chelsea watched one of the only friendly faces she knew disappear and then turned back to the table. They were running out of crackers.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you buddy, treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. Have I ever steered you wrong?" Brooks squeezed his shoulder and grinned. Mike shook his head but he wasn't sure that he was doing the right thing here. He'd actually been excited to introduce Chelsea to his friends and the last time he'd zoomed by her she'd looked so disappointed that he hadn't stuck around. "Thattaboy. Gotta keep them on their toes."<p>

"What about you last night man?" he asked, noting that the curvy little teacher from Pittsburgh had shown up unannounced and even now was keeping a sharp eye on the two of them from where she was sitting out on the deck.

"Exactly my point man!" Brooks grinned like he'd just won the lottery and threw up his hands, sending beer suds to the carpet. "She came all the way here for me. I had her screaming last night, left this morning without saying a god damned word and she's still here, can't wait to get her hands on my knob. I'm livin' the good life my friend." Mike didn't think that the very stormy look on the young woman's face said that she was keen, or that she was eager to do much more than cut Brooks' balls off and cook them.

"I dunno man," Mike mumbled.

"Listen to your good 'ol Uncle Brooks, I know what I'm talking about." Mike felt the sting of his friend's hand on his cheek and then he was suddenly alone in the middle of his own house party.

"You tell her you love her but I don't think she's very convinced." Mike turned toward Nicky who was holding out a bottle of Pilsner. "She did a lot of work for you tonight. The least you could do is say thank you." Mike hung his head. Why did the advice have to be so different?

"Man...I practically cut off my own nuts and handed them to her last night. I'm freaking out a little bit here." He looked up into his friend's thoughtful expression and waited.

"You were very happy this morning," Nicky reminded him and Mike had to agree. He'd felt like he was floating when they'd left the house.

"Dude..._I cried_," he admitted in a hoarse whisper. That was something he could never have admitted to anyone other than Nicky but even knowing that his Swedish teammate wouldn't laugh at him, he still found himself cringing as he waited for a reaction.

"I understand that happens sometimes," Nicky replied very quietly, guiding Mike to a less crowded corner, "when there is an emotional connection. I think this is a good thing." Mike sighed and shook his head.

"Yeah but now she's gonna go all fucking hearts and flowers on me and the next thing I know she's planning a fucking wedding and it's all my fault because I fucking rushed everything." Nicky's hand felt heavy on his shoulder but when Mike looked up into his friend's blue eyes, where he expected to see reproach he saw understanding.

"I think maybe you should speak to her about it. I think maybe she isn't the hearts and flowers girl you think."

* * *

><p>"Can I help with that?"<p>

Chelsea looked at the soapy platter in the sink and shook her head. Almost everything that could fit was already in the dishwasher and the rest, paper plates and plastic cups, where in the garbage. It was a bit late to be asking to help now.

"I'll just finish up here and then I'm going home," she told him, keeping her gaze on the platter as she rinsed it and then added it to the drying rack.

"Don't go," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I think I should," she replied coolly, pushing his hands away from her middle and shooting him a dark look. "You made it pretty fucking clear you don't want me here."

"I didn't," he began and when she raised an eyebrow he capitulated and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay maybe I was a little busy but I really think you did a great job."

"Fuck Mike, you avoided me all night. Are you ashamed of me or something?" She knew enough about professional athletes to know that they dated leggy models and actresses and she was just a cowgirl from his hometown. Of course it had occurred to her that he might not want to introduce her to his pals.

"That's not it, totally not it," he replied earnestly as he reached for her. She backed away, holding her hands out defensively in front of her. The last thing she wanted now was to be coaxed into forgiving him. "Look it's just stupid, you'd laugh if I told you." He aimed that boyish grin of his at her like a spotlight. It made her stop and then it made her wonder if he could turn that thing off and on at will, and if he could, had she fallen for some golly gee shucks routine that wasn't even real?

"I doubt I'd laugh," she told him honestly, moving so that the island in the middle of the kitchen was between them. "I'm not really in the laughing mood right now." The wattage of his smile dimmed until finally he was the Mike she thought was probably closer to the real deal. He nodded, leaned back against the counter and stared at the floor.

"I guess I'm kind of freaking about last night or whatever," he mumbled. Chelsea took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. He was going to take it back. All the things he'd said in the small hours of the morning, promises he'd made, he was going to take it all back and then he was probably going to ask for some space, do that whole 'it's not you it's me' routine. Then he was probably going to ask her to leave. Well her father had always told her that the best offense was a good defence...or was that the other way around? Either way, she wasn't going to let him get the last word in.

"Totally, right? That was like...the drink talking or whatever. NBD, I'll get myself home and you can just call me if you want to or not, you know, whatever," she ran her hands down her hips to dry them and headed out of the kitchen, her heart racing. She hardly made it three feet before his arms locked around her middle.

"Okay, I don't know who that was, but don't bring her back here. That was just creepy," he chuckled in her ear as he pulled her back against him. "And I said I was kind of freaking out not that I wanted you to go anywhere." Against her better judgement, she relaxed back against him. "Better," he whispered before turning her to face him and then wrapping his arms around her again. "I guess I'm more freaked out that you'd be freaked out," he told her and she heard a hitch in his voice that suggested this really was the heart of the matter.

"I guess things have been going pretty fast," she sighed, wrapping her arms around him and leaning into the width of his chest.

"I don't want to put too much pressure on you," he told her with his chin resting on the top of her head. "I'm pretty sure the girl I met was running away from that kind of pressure." She smiled and slid her hand down to smack his ass. "What? Are you denying being an escapee from a shotgun wedding?"

"I do," she untangled herself from him and poked her finger into the middle of his chest. "I didn't have a gun to my head then and I don't now. _And_," she continued, grabbing a handful of his t-shirt and pulling him against her, "I'm not holding one to your head. If you wanna cool things off for a..." His lips crashing down over hers' silenced her altogether and as his lips moved over hers', forcing hers to open beneath his, she got the distinct impression that he wasn't in any hurry to cool things down at all.

"Stay," he whispered hoarsely, pressing the long, hard evidence of the reason for his demand against her stomach. "Stay tonight, we'll go to Stampede tomorrow and I promise I won't be such an ass."

"Promise?" she looked up at him, a warning that she hadn't forgotten her treatment tonight blazing in her eyes.

"Scout's honour," he smiled, holding up his hand and making some kind of signal with his fingers that she was fairly certain had more to do with either Mork or Spock than the boy scouts but either way it made her smile and nod her head in agreement.


	15. Chapter 15

_thank you for your patience while I was doing holiday type things. I hope the drama makes up for it  
><em>

_Think you know everything  
>You really don't know nothing<br>I wish that you were more intelligent  
>So you could see that what you are doing<br>Is so shitty, to me_

_Stop being a dickhead,  
>Why are you being a dickhead for<br>You're just fucking up situations  
>Why are you being a dickhead for<br>Stop being a dickhead,  
>Why you being a dickhead for<br>You're just fucking up situations_

(lyrics "Dickhead" Kate Nash)

**Chapter 15**

It was the third or maybe the fourth group of people that had literally stepped in front of them, ceasing their forward progress that had started it. The first time had been fine, expected really, and she'd put up with it without comment. The second group she'd seen coming before he had and had merely stepped to the side with her friend and found someplace to buy deep fried Coke and had just watched while he'd stood, with Brooks and Nicky, dead centre of the midway and posed for pictures, signed autographs and accepted people's well meant advice on how he and the rest of his team could play better. He'd wanted to suggest they take their suggestions to Iggy and the rest of their down in Flames home team but had kept his mouth shut, nodded and smiled, just like he'd been trained to do.

The third time they'd been stopped she'd moved in front of him, tried to shield him and he'd thought it was cute. He'd also known it wasn't going to work. He'd shot her a look, as she was swept aside that he hoped she'd understand meant that he wasn't enjoying this anymore than she was, but the scowl on her face clearly said that she doubted it.

"Oh my god, oh my god. You have to let me take a picture with you. No one is going to believe I was hanging out at Stampede with Mike Green."

He didn't correct the bubbly blonde that was currently hanging around his neck, didn't point out that she'd raced across the midway with her girlfriends in tow, screeching at the top of her lungs and drawing a crowd. He also didn't point out that there was no way in hell that he would ever hang out with a girl who did things like that. He just stood there and let her hang off of him like a cheap necklace while her girlfriends took turns taking pictures on their phones.

"Sorry ladies, we have to go. Our friends are waiting." It was Nicky, of course, and not Brooks, predictably, who peeled the young fan with the fake tan and the bright pink lipstick off of him. Mike gave her one of his patented 'what can I do?' shrugs and let his friend drag them off towards the beer garden.

"I'm really sorry about that," he apologized as he slid onto the bench beside her. She didn't look up and when he tried to press a kiss to her cheek she pulled away.

"You looked like you were enjoying it," she charged quietly but firmly. Mike stared at her profile, at the way her lips were pursed and her gaze was focussed on the beer in front of her that he noted was untouched.

"They're taking pictures of me. What am I supposed to do, not smile?" he asked, irritated. She muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like 'it might help' and his hands curled into fists on his thighs. He looked across the table for some help but Nicky only raised an eyebrow at him that made it clear he wasn't going to help and Brooks smirked in a way that Mike knew meant he didn't want the help the big man was willing to give. Taking a deep breath, he reached for her hand under the table. She resisted, at first, but he didn't let go and her fingers finally relaxed enough to allow him to peel her hand off of the bench and take it in both of his. "Chels, babe, you know there's no one else I want to be with right now. Not even these goombahs," he added, making a goofy face just to make her smile. She glanced at him and rolled her eyes but he could see that she was fighting not to grin. "That's better," he whispered, leaning closer. This time she let him press a kiss to her cheek.

"You're gonna have to get used to that fangirl shit if you're gonna hang out with boy genius here," Brooks interjected, turning that ghost of a grin suddenly upside down again. "This shit is nothing compared to the attention he gets from the ladies back in Washington," he added, reaching forward to steal a fry from in front of her. Mike shot him a withering glare but Brooks just grinned back as he chewed.

"I...I don't know that we've talked about that." Mike felt her hand being pulled from his and he shot another murderous glare at his teammate.

"Babe, you know I meant to...I was totally going to. I just didn't see any need to rush into anything," he stammered as she stared at the untouched beer in front of her.

"Oh wow man! Sorry, did I just drop you into it with the little lady?" Brooks chuckled like he'd done it on purpose, like he was enjoying stirring shit up. Mike was seriously beginning to wonder why he was friends with the guy. "I just assumed that now you'd found someone who could, y'know, cook and clean that you'd be dragging her back to Washington whether she wanted to or not."

"Brooksy!" It was Nicky who hissed at their friend which Mike appreciated because he didn't think he could actually speak he was so mad. Not to mention caught between a rock and a hard place while he tried to decide which to do first, kill Brooks or try and avoid digging a bigger hole for himself with Chelsea, and he had, he could tell by the bright red spots of fury blooming on her cheeks.

"Babe...," he began, not knowing where he was going or what he was going to say and then those green eyes turned towards him, glowing like something unearthly.

"What is with all this babe shit? Is that the way you talk to your little sluts back in DC?" she hissed. He opened his mouth to dispute it but he didn't have an argument. She was right. "You know what, don't say anything. I'm just...it's possible I'm overreacting." He was being given a gift and he knew it, for once. So he shut his mouth, changed the subject and decided the first chance he got he was going to do something really painful to Brooks, he just hadn't decided what yet.

* * *

><p>'<em>You're always blowing things out of proportion baby'<em>.

It was her mother's voice she heard in the back of her mind when she looked into his teddy bear velvet brown eyes and Chelsea eased back on the firing pin of her anger and took a deep breath. She was embarrassed and a little hurt, but she didn't need to toss a grenade at something that had, so far, been a good thing.

This was exactly when she missed her mother most. This was the time a girl needed her mother most. Who else could she talk to about something like this?

"We can talk about that stuff later, if you want," he whispered as they walked, hand in hand, towards the livestock barns. She bit her lip and nodded as she leaned into him and laid her head on his shoulder. She reminded herself that this was still fragile and new and he was right, there was no need to rush things.

"We totally don't have to," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. She thought she felt his entire body go slack with relief.

"Oh, shit, thank god," he mumbled half under his breath, as if she'd just put the safety back on the gun and taken the barrel away from his forehead. "I mean, not that we can't talk about it but, you know, no need to rush into anything," he added, his voice an octave too high not to be taken as abject terror. That was probably the appropriate emotion, she thought, but it wasn't the one she was currently experiencing.

"Your friend's kind of a dick," her friend added as she and Nicky fell into step beside them.

"He's not, usually," Mike told them both but he was still staring daggers at the back of his friend's head. Chelsea felt her friend reach for her hand and she gratefully tangled her fingers with Shannon's so that all four of them were walking along holding hands. It didn't take long for them to start swinging their arms in unison and laughing, lightening the mood.

"Greener! Bet you can't beat me!"

Stopping in their tracks they all turned to see Brooks standing in front of one of those carnival games, the one with the mallet and the bell at the top of a post.

"Whatever man, we'll be in the barns petting the cows or whatever," Mike called back and gave Chelsea's hand a tug. Not that she needed convincing. She followed him, grateful not to have to watch the testosterone show.

"Chicken!" Brooks' voice followed them. She felt Mike bristle beside her but he didn't turn.

"Oh my god, Mike! You totally have to do it!" The same blonde with her too bright pink lipstick suddenly appeared at his other side, digging her glitter dusted fingernails into his arm. "Hey who wants to see Mike Green hit the bell?" Mike staggered and tried to pull back against the girl dragging him away but it was as if the tiny thing had a five hundred pound weight tied to her, or maybe it was just that Chelsea let him go.

"Don't let that little cunt get away with that!" Shannon hissed beside her. Chelsea watched Mike being swallowed by a crowd that had suddenly grown up around him like a fog.

"Doesn't matter," Chelsea shrugged, ignoring the roar of approval that went up when the bell rang. She didn't know who'd hit it, Brooks or Mike, and she didn't care. "Let's go see the cows. I hear they have that one with the window in one of its stomachs."

* * *

><p>He accepted the blow up bright yellow mallet and held it up over his head to the acclaim of the crowd. He leered at Brooks, who was leaning on the real, heavy wooden mallet and smiling.<p>

"Welcome to the gun show!" he laughed, striking a pose that showed off the work he'd been doing on his upper body strength. He was about to turn and press a kiss to one of his biceps when that same girl was suddenly hanging off of it.

"Oh my god, I can, like, barely wrap my fingers around it!" The look in her eyes told him that she wasn't just talking about his guns. For a moment he looked down at her and wondered what that lipstick would look like on his dick and then he gave his head a shake, peeled her fingers off of his arm and looked around for the woman he'd come with.

"Brooks, where's Chels and Nicky?" He scanned the faces around him and didn't see the features he was looking for. He didn't see her leaf green eyes, or her full, soft lips. He didn't see her blood red curls or her pale, moon kissed skin.

"Who knows man? Who cares? They were just being a bummer anyway. Besides, I think you've got a fan there looking for an autograph." Mike looked down at the woman who was looking up at him with that expression that his body immediately recognized, even if his brain was sending mixed signals. It would be easy, so easy, he thought as he watched her grin grow at the thought of winning that night with the hockey star she'd be able to brag to all of her friends about. Much easier than what faced him with Chelsea he thought as he mulled over the idea of just grabbing this girl who was offering easy, free, no strings attached sex and taking her up on her offer. Was it wrong to feel relieved by the idea of returning to his free and easy bachelor ways, he wondered as she wound her arms around his neck in anticipation of providing him her own sort of prize.

"Come on the Ferris Wheel with me," the blonde purred, licking her lips as if he was a big, juicy steak. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." Mike felt his body react, urging him to take the tiny blonde in her too short denim skirt and her midriff revealing tank top up on her offer. His hands twitched at the thought of sliding up under that thin fabric and toying with her perky breasts. His cock twitched at the thought of...other things.

"I probably shouldn't," he muttered, feeling light headed as all of the blood in his body raced south.

"You know you want to," she purred, pouring her body against his and reaching down to cup his growing erection. Good girls like Chelsea didn't do things like this in public and maybe that was the problem he thought as he found himself reaching around to grab a piece of her tiny tight ass in his hand. Maybe he wasn't meant to be with good girls, making plans and thinking about his future. He liked being in the here and now, especially this now.

"Ferris Wheel eh? I bet I can bribe the guy to let us be at the top for a little while," he chuckled, grabbing both of her ass cheeks in his hands and laughing as she climbed him, wrapped her legs around him and let out a whoop of victory.

* * *

><p>Chelsea leaned against one of the gates as she held her friend's purse and watched while Shannon and Mike's friend Nicky went around and around in circles on some ride she knew was designed to make her puke. She could hear Shannon's shriek from where she stood and thought '<em>at least one of us is having fun'<em>.

She'd thought Mike and his other friend would have caught up to them by now. '_No you assumed_ _they would_', she told herself firmly, '_and you know what they say about assuming'_.

Yes, she'd made an ass of herself. She'd already decided on that as she turned to watch the crowds go by, the girls in their daisy dukes and straw cowboy hats, the boys in their tight white t-shirts and even tighter jeans. '_You have no business pushing anyone into anything'_ she added, berating herself for her little melt down at the beer garden when his friend had brought up the inevitable end of summer and what it might mean. She'd decided she didn't want to marry Jimmy and that Mike was a better option but she hadn't actually thought about what his going back to Washington might mean. Now, as she watched her friend teeter and weave as she made her way off of the ride, Chelsea was also feeling a little green around the gills, but for a completely different reason.

"Do you think that Mike thinks that I want to move in with him or something?" she asked his friend as she shoved Shannon's purse into her hands. Nicky looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook his head.

"No, it probably didn't even enter into his head that he had to think about the end of the summer at all until Brooksy brought it up. Mike's not a real big planner," he added with a thoughtful sort of lop sided grin.

"Because I didn't. I mean, I hadn't thought about it all either. I mean I knew, y'know, eventually we'd have to decide if this was even something worth pursuing but I honestly hadn't thought about anything like moving in or even going back to Washington at all." Chelsea clapped her hand over her mouth. It felt like she had a bad case of diarrhoea of the mouth.

"I don't think it's me you should be telling this to," the blonde answered with a shrug, but his ever present easy going grin made her at least feel like he wasn't judging her for saying it.

"I know," she muttered, digging in her own jeans for her phone. "I wonder where he and that asshole wandered off to?"

"You know what we should do," her friend suggested, linking arms with both Nicky as well as with Chelsea and then looking over their heads. "We should go on that. I bet we'll be able to spot them from up there." Chelsea followed her friend's gaze to the top of the Ferris Wheel which was now lit as the sun went down.

"Two guys in t-shirts and jeans?" Chelsea laughed.

"Okay, well maybe not, but the reception might be better up there."

* * *

><p>Her lips didn't taste the same. Her touch didn't burn his skin. Her gaze, as she looked up at him from her knees didn't make it hard to breathe.<p>

Mike sat back, his arms out along the back ledge of the car and stared at the sky. The sounds of the midway were far below but the sound of the woman slurping away at his dick was too close.

It wasn't working. _She_ wasn't working for him. Since triple-A he'd been able to able to get it up and blow his load at the drop of a hat. It hadn't mattered what girl had been on her knees with her mouth wrapped around his dick, he'd been able to enjoy it. Now, as he tapped his fingers impatiently on the edge of the cup shaped car that was swinging ever so gently in the warm breeze, he knew that she was having to work too hard for this.

He'd heard of this kind of thing happening, to _other_ guys of course, but it had never happened to him before. It was just as embarrassing as he'd always thought it would be and there didn't seem like a good way to get of the situation he'd gotten himself into.

"You, uh, you can get up now," he muttered, turning his attention back to the blue eyed blonde who was unsuccessfully pulling his pudd. She stopped, mid stroke, and stared back at him.

"You can't fool me," she grinned at him like he was trying to make a joke. "You're not done yet mister," she added, moving her mouth back over him. Mike groaned, but not in a good way. This chick was quickly disproving the old adage that there was no such thing as a bad blowjob.

"Look, get up okay? It's not gonna happen," he grumbled as he reached down to pull his half mast schooner out of her mouth. "There's just too many people around," he added by way of an explanation as she wiped saliva from around her mouth and rolled her big, doe like eyes at him. She stuck her bottom lip out as she got slowly up from her knees. Mike moved over on the plastic bench to give her room to sit beside him but she only climbed onto his lap instead, setting the car swinging. "Whatareyoudoing?" he asked, reaching back to grab hold of the ledge, as if he could stop himself from falling if the car tipped. For a moment he imagined himself as a grease spot on the concrete below and his stomach began to churn even more violently.

"What we totally should have done in the first place," she purred as she reached for his hand and began to guide it up under her barely there tank top. He opened his mouth to object, to argue that this was not a good idea, even that he didn't have any protection; not that a girl like this one cared about something as trivial as that.

This was the kind of girl that would probably give him a case of the clap and come back nine months later with her hand out. She was exactly the kind of girl that the coaches and legal staff warned guys like him about. His brain knew it. The problem was that now his dick didn't care as she began to grind down onto him.

"Bad idea, bad idea," he muttered as her other hand fished his now hard cock out of jeans and started to guide it towards her probably pestilent ridden snatch. "Jeeezzzuuzzz," he moaned as he felt her slippery heat surround him. "Nonononono, not a good idea." Whimpering like a kicked puppy he physically removed her from his lap and was setting her down as he felt the car give a wild swing and realized they were no longer at the top of the wheel. In fact the car below them was just unloading, and a pair of very, very green eyes were staring up him, blazing with fury.

* * *

><p>"You sure you don't want the change ma'am?"<p>

Chelsea shook her head and waved mutely at the cabbie as she gave him a weak smile. He was giving her that look that said he pitied her, like he had a daughter her age and he wanted to maybe give her a hug. Right about now she'd have accepted it if he hadn't smelled like cigar smoke and had forced her to listen to Rod Stewart for the entire drive.

Turning towards the driveway made her shoulders sag once more. She'd asked the cab driver to drop her at the bottom of the hill in hopes that by the time she reached the top she'd have gotten herself under control but now as she stared up the gradual climb in front of her it seemed insurmountable. With a sigh, she squared her shoulders and told herself to put one foot in front of the other. It wasn't as easy to do as it sounded when every bone in her body seemed to ache and her vision was still blurred from tears. She wiped her nose across the back of her arm and made a face at the snot bubble she left behind.

"You're so pretty Chelsea," she mumbled, wiping her arm with the hem of her t-shirt as she started to laugh. It was one of those times she heard her mother in her own voice and brought back better memories. All of those times when she'd come into the house covered head to toe in mud and worse and her mother had just shaken her head and smiled.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she felt her heart break just a little more. She'd give just about anything to have her mother waiting at the front door right now, to collapse into her arms and cry and know that there would be no 'I told you so'. The best she could hope for, she thought as she rounded the lower paddock and saw the house hove into view, was a dark, empty house so she could climb the stairs, pull the covers over her head and hide.

"I'm in the steer wrestling tomorrow. Will you come?" Chelsea paused, her hand on the fencepost for support. The familiar voice crept up on her out of the dark and suddenly her feet refused to take her any further. "CeeCee?" His familiar scent filled her nostrils as Jimmy appeared out of the dark, the white wife-beater that was straining across his chest almost glowing in the dark.

"I...I don't know," she answered honestly, staring at the center of his chest as he approached. '_Don't look into his eyes'_ she told herself as he stopped just inches away. Her fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to reach for his hand. She wanted to pull his arms around her like an old familiar sweater. She wanted to press her cheek against his chest and listen to nothing but the sound of his heart beating. '_Don't look into his eyes'_ she told herself as he took that extra step closer, as his long fingers reached to tip her chin up.

"You've been crying," he told her, she thought, unnecessarily. She braced herself for the words she was sure were going to come on the heels of that statement. She waited to hear him ask if Mike had hurt her. If he did she was going to cry again, and she didn't want to cry. She wanted to be angry. She was sure if Jimmy felt sorry for her she wouldn't be able to be angry anymore. As it was, all she could do was sort of look past him, the blonde bristles of his goatee gleaming gold in the moonlight. '_Don't look into his eyes'_ she told herself again as she felt his hand tremble where it caressed her cheek. "Did I ever make you cry?"

It wasn't the question or the statement she had expected and the disarming candor behind his words caught her off guard. Chelsea shook her head as fat, hot tears began to roll down her cheeks again. Jimmy made a sound in his throat that echoed in her broken heart as he wrapped his arms around her and cradled the back of her head as she burst into body wracking sobs and wrapped her arms around him in turn.


	16. Chapter 16

_vacation sorta gets in the way of writing. I hope you're still with me on this one  
><em>

_Goin' down the wrong road and_  
><em>Livin' by the wrong code and<em>  
><em>Chasin' after dreams that don't come true<em>

_Lookin' for the right signs and_  
><em>Ridin' on the white lines<em>  
><em>Just tryin' to find my way to you<em>

_Well, there's been high times, and there's been hard times_  
><em>And there's been times I couldn't tell<em>  
><em>If I'm livin' a good life or livin' a bad life<em>  
><em>'Cause I'm always livin' fast as hell<em>

_(lyrics from 'My Way to You' by Jamey Johnson)_

**Chapter 16**

The summer sun streamed through the curtains. Mike stared at the patterns that the sun and the curtains made on the blank wall. Some mornings those patterns made him smile. This wasn't one of those mornings.

Morning had taken forever to arrive. He hadn't slept. He hadn't tried to. The lack of sleep and the way his head was pounding now wasn't punishment enough for what he'd done but it was something. Mike eyed the bottle in his hand, holding it up to gauge how much of the amber liquid that he'd been using to dull the pain remained. Not enough, he thought as he upended the bottle and let the remaining couple of ounces drain down his throat, leaving a warm burn behind.

This was why he didn't get too close, he reasoned as he stumbled to his feet and careened out of his room to look for more liquid pain relief. Physical pain was one thing. He'd learned to play through that, put up with it, treat it. But this, this feeling of being pierced through, of having his guts ripped out his nostrils...,this was the reason that he didn't get close, because it wasn't fun.

Sex was fun, or it had been before it had gotten him into this mess and now that he knew what other guys were talking about when they said he'd know...well now, he thought miserably as he sorted through his liquor cabinet looking for stronger anaesthetic, now it might never be fun again.

Chelsea wasn't going to forgive him. Hell, Mike thought as he settled on a bottle of Polar Vodka and headed for the couch, he wasn't sure he could forgive himself. He'd given into peer pressure like some kind of fifteen year old kid and probably ruined the one good thing besides his contract with the Caps that he had in his life.

"You're a fuck up Greener," he toasted himself, raising the bottle in salute to no one before tipping it towards his mouth and taking a long swallow that left him wincing as the clear liquid burned a trail down his oesophagus.

"And a fucking pussy, don't forget that." Mike spun his head around, which set the room spinning, to see Brooks coming out of the kitchen with a box of special K, a bowl and a carton of milk carefully balanced in his hands.

"This is _your_ fault," Mike pointed at his teammate and thought, for a moment, about getting up and pummelling him but he decided to wait until the room stopped swaying like a row boat on storm tossed seas.

"That you've got an innie where your dick should be? I don't fucking think so," Brooksy laughed, setting the bowl and box down on the coffee table before sliding to the floor behind it. Picking up the remote he aimed it at Mike's big screen. "Actually man, I'm kind of disappointed in you," his teammate continued as he flipped through the channels until he found the cartoon network and then settled down to eat his cereal. "I thought you'd try a little harder not to give in to temptation."

Mike stared at his teammate replaying his last statement over and over in his head until it started to make sense and then the bottle dropped out of his hand. His teammate's quick reflexes were the only thing that stopped it from hitting the ground.

"A fucking test? What kind of sick fuck...what the _fuck_ did you do?" Mike stared at Brooks' inert profile as his friend calmly put the bottle down in the middle of the table and then went back to eating cereal. "Brooks," he repeated more calmly, though his jaw was clenched and so where his hands, "what the fucking fuck have you fucking done, you fucking psychotic fuck!" Without ceasing to chew, Brooks shrugged and turned towards Mike wearing a 'butter wouldn't melt' smile.

"I wanted to see if you were serious or not," Brooks replied wryly and then went back to his cereal as if they weren't talking about something that felt very life or death to Mike at that moment.

"Dude…," Mike stared at Brooks, at the way his jaw moved as he chewed, and seriously considered finding a rusty pair of pliers to pull out each and every last one of his friends' teeth.

"Greener, if you loved the girl you wouldn't have done it," Brooks told him without taking his eyes from the antics of Wile E Coyote on the screen. Mike opened his mouth to object but found that he couldn't. That had been the very conundrum that had kept him up all night. If he loved Chelsea, and he thought that he did, then how could he have done it?

"Lots of guys cheat. Guys on the team, other teams, Football players..." It was an excuse, he knew it was an excuse and it tasted like dog shit on his tongue as he said it, but this very same tape had been playing on a loop in his mind all night. There were lots of guys he knew that had girls in other cities, one night stands as well as long term mistress arrangements, but when they came home they were the perfect family man.

"Right under her nose man?" Brooks replied, glancing back at Mike long enough for him to see the disbelief in his friend's eyes. "Dude, you were looking for an excuse to back out and all I did was give you a little shove and you dove right in head fucking first. Face it. You didn't want to be serious. Get over it. Fuck some other chick and you'll be fine."

Mike didn't think he'd be fine. In fact, the way his gut was churning he didn't think he'd be fine ever again. He'd made a huge fucking mistake. He'd known that the instant he'd seen the expression on Chelsea's face change from disbelief to fury.

"I have to see her...," he said, mostly to himself. Brooks reached for the remote, turned down the sound and put down the bowl.

"Wait. Did I just hear you say that you seriously want to go see her? And say what? Sorry I boned that chick right in front of you? Fuck, if that works let me know," he chuckled, reaching for the half empty bowl again. Mike got to see his feet, felt the world sway around him and put his hands out to steady himself.

"I have to...have to explain that it was a fucking mistake and _you_," he added, aiming at kick at Brooks' shoulder, "are gonna fucking drive me." Brooks looked back at him, incredulous, and then shrugged.

"Fine, we'll go, _after_ I'm finished eating and after you have a cup of joe and then we'll go so she can throw dishes at you. Should be a fucking blast."

* * *

><p>She woke to the aroma of freshly turned hay and the warm comforting musk of horseflesh. Oh, and man, or, more specifically Irish Spring. Chelsea squinted against the intrusion of the bright golden glow of the morning sun and up into a pair of familiar blue eyes.<p>

"So you're awake then, finally," Jimmy said, rubbing a towel through his damp, blonde hair. The early morning light kissed his suntanned skin and made it and him glow as if he was the second coming of the god Apollo himself. "I thought I was going to have to bring one of the water buckets in here," he continued, that easy half grin of his that she hadn't seen in so long further served to brighten the room, making her shade her eyes as she looked up at him. "You missed breakfast, and early morning chores," he continued with a wink that made it clear he'd taken care of those duties himself, "but your Gran sent you down some scones and fresh honey," he added, cocking his head to indicate a plate covered by a tea towel on top of the dresser. "You'll probably have to eat those in the truck though," he added, draping the towel over the brass railing at the end of the bed and reaching for a freshly starched and pressed white shirt that was hanging from the doorknob. Chelsea watched him drape it over his wide shoulders and wondered if he'd ironed it himself or if her grandmother had had a hand in that too. "You gettin' up or am I gonna have to wrap you in that sheet and carry you out?" He looked like he'd enjoy doing it she thought as she struggled to sit up, rubbing at her eyes.

"Do I have time for a shower?" she asked, holding the sheet up to her chest, feeling suddenly shy.

"Sure, if you're quick," he grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth as he did up the mother of pearl buttons on his shirt. The shirt and the man in it smelled like warm summer sunshine. "Your Gran brought down a pair of jeans and one of your mom's barrel racing shirts," he called over his shoulder as he reached into the small bathroom and pulled out a fresh, white towel. He threw it at her, but didn't turn to give her a chance for modesty. He leaned on the wall and watched, wearing that same lop sided cheerful grin as she tried to slide the towel up under the sheet.

"Do you...do you mind?" she asked, feeling a furious heat rising into her face. Jimmy laughed, rolled his eyes then made a show of shutting them.

"You weren't so reserved last night. Shucked it all and climbed into bed," he reminded her. Chelsea shot an incensed glower his direction but it was wasted with his eyes shut. She pulled the towel around her and held it closed as she sidled towards the bathroom door. "You're lucky I'm a gentleman," he laughed as he reached out and grabbed her, his eyes no longer closed, "and that I'm not too proud to sleep in the barn," he added in a less playful, brusquer tone.

"I'm sorry if I put you out," she whispered, holding herself very still in his arms.

"Just as long as the next time you come to my bed," he whispered, brushing his be-whiskered cheek against her smooth one as he whispered in her ear, "you mean for me to join you." He pulled back then just enough so that he could press his lips to the tip of her nose and then he turned and was gone. Chelsea listened to the sound of his boots on the old wooden floor until she heard his footsteps on the rickety stairs down from the little room above the stable. Only then did she carefully fold the towel and put it on the back of the toilet and climb into the old claw foot tub, pull the shower curtain around her, and turn on the water.

* * *

><p>"She's not here."<p>

The old woman in the check shirt and the jeans with the elastic waistband politely smiled at both of them but Mike could see something in her eyes that made his stomach clench.

"She didn't come back last night?" he asked, hoping that maybe she'd stayed at her friend Shannon's house and had stayed up all night drinking like he had.

"Oh she got back alright," Chelsea's grandmother's smile suddenly brightened as she peeled off the heavy looking leather gloves she was wearing and draped them over the wooden rail of the corral. "Didn't make it up to the house mind you," she added in a tone that made it abundantly clear just what she meant without her having to say it. Mike's hands curled into fists. He was going to kill that fucking cowpoke if it was the last thing he ever did on this earth.

"Where is she now?" Brooks asked, leaning against the railing as he eyed the young woman on the back of the horse loping around the ring.

"Left about an hour ago," the woman said with a glance towards the sky, as if the only timepiece she required was the bright summer sun. "Jimmy's competing at Stampede today. She went with him," she added levelling her gaze at Mike, a satisfied smile creeping across her face, "to cheer him on."

Mike's heart squeezed painfully in his chest. She'd come back and slept with Jimmy and she was with him now. He wanted to kill them, both of them.

"Thanks for your time ma'am," Brooks grabbed Mike's arm and turned him back towards the car. Mike stumbled as his teammate drove him forward, the red veil was down over his eyes and he couldn't see.

"We have to...have to go," he mumbled as Brooks opened up the passenger side door.

"We're going," Brook hissed into his ear before guiding his head and pushing him into the seat, "now wave to the nice lady who hates your guts," he added before slamming the car door shut. Mike did as he was told and watched as the old witch grinned triumphantly back at him. He growled as he stared back at her. "Watch it bruiser. If you want this girl of yours back you'll have to win the old dame over eventually," his friend admonished him as he got in behind the wheel and slid the key into the ignition. The words somehow cut through the sound of his own blood pumping furiously in his veins and Mike tentatively raised a hand and waved as Brooks backed the car down the drive.

* * *

><p>"Cee Cee!" Chelsea felt a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around her waist and then her feet were off of the ground. She squeaked as she was lifted high in the air and then put down again. She turned to see roping champ Tuf Cooper wearing a big goofy, his blue eyes alight with mischief. "You competin' girl? I didn't see your name on the list."<p>

"Nah, not this year," she smiled back at him. His boyish smile faded at the edges. They all knew about her mom, of course and she let him think that it was still too soon.

"Well there's always next year, if your man here doesn't get his way eh Jimmy?" Chelsea watched as the two men shook and did that half hug half shoulder bump that she supposed was the manly way of hugging. "When is the big day?" Tuf asked, his gaze travelling quickly from Jimmy's tight smile to Chelsea's and back. She caught Jimmy's sidelong glance and kept her mouth shut. There was no need to air their dirty laundry here.

"I ain't asked her yet," Jimmy's smile softened as he gave her a grateful look. Chelsea found that she couldn't stop herself from returning his smile.

"Are you kidding me?" Tuf punched Jimmy's shoulder and then reached for Chelsea's hand, dragging her towards him. "I guess if she's still single I might just use my rope to tie her to my gun rack and take her home with me." Chelsea laughed as Tuf reached for the thin white rope that hung at his belt. Her laughter faded quickly as she saw the dark, threatening expression on Jimmy's face out of the corner of her eye. "I'm just kidding man, everyone knows not to mess with your little woman," Tuf added, letting her go and taking a step back. Jimmy's square jaw eased and he nodded, the think line of his mouth easing.

"He's in the ring soon," Chelsea said, taking a step towards the tall blonde in the straw hat and sliding her arm through his. "You know how he gets before he goes out there and drags some poor steer through the dirt." Tuf nodded, his playful grin reappearing.

"All that testosterone flowing and I bet he takes it all out on you afterwards am I right?" Tuf winked and Chelsea felt her face heat. She could imagine it even though it had never happened; Jimmy's long lean body damp with sweat, dusty with dirt, pressing he down into a bed of hay, wearing the same fierce look she knew he'd have on his face in a few minutes out in the ring. Her entire body felt like it was being licked by flames. "Well I'll see you two love birds later, Cowboys?" the roping champ tipped his black felt cowboy hat down and then, with a wink, turned to find someone else to bug, no doubt. She watched him go, shaking her head.

"Thanks." She looked up into those steely blue eyes and saw real gratitude and tenderness too.

"You're welcome," she whispered, not letting go of his arm. Jimmy's gaze searched hers and she knew what he was looking for and for the first time in a long time she knew, as his eyes got a little wider, that he was seeing it.

"CeeCee," he said quietly, his other hand reaching to cup her cheek. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him no, that nothing had changed, but the words died on her tongue as she looked into those sky blue eyes and saw something she hadn't thought she'd ever truly seen before. He needed her.

"Hey, get a room will ya?" Jimmy's big red headed friend and competitor wrapped his arms around the both of them and squeezed them into a giant bear hug. Chelsea giggled but Jimmy struggled to get loose. "Or maybe I should let you keep mushin' up this boy," Curtis added, grabbing Jimmy's hat, pulling him into a headlock and digging his big, scarred knuckles into the top of his head.

"Keep doin' that and I'll make sure they give you the biggest, steer with biggest horns," Chelsea chided their friend who was struggling to keep Jimmy wrapped up.

"Bring it on, this guy doesn't stand a chance," Curtis laughed as he let the tall blonde go. Jimmy grabbed for his hat and looked it over carefully for new dents.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Chelsea smiled at them both, "I wouldn't bet against him just yet."


	17. Chapter 17

_I'm not strong enough to stay away  
>Can't run from you<br>I'd just run back to you  
>Like a moth I'm drawn into your flame<br>You say my name but it's not the same  
>You look in my eyes<br>I'm stripped of my pride  
>And my soul surrenders<br>And you bring my heart to its knees_

And it's killing me when you're away  
>And I wanna leave<br>And I wanna stay  
>And I'm so confused<br>So hard to choose between the pleasure and the pain  
>And I know it's wrong<br>And I know it's right  
>And even if I tried to win the fight<br>My heart would overrule my mind  
>And I'm not strong enough to stay away<p>

_There's nothing I can do  
>My heart is chained to you<br>And I can't get free  
>Look what this love has done to me<em>

(_lyrics from Not Strong Enough – Apocalyptica ft Brent Smith)_

**Chapter 17**

This is the hard part, she knows from experience. This is the part where she has to watch him go out there and do what he has to do. This is the part where he can get hurt. Oh not like a bull rider, '_thank god for that'_ she thinks as he stretches his long arms over his head and cracks his knuckles. But even that's not the hardest part this time, she knows as he turns and gives her that hesitant little boy smile that is hopeful and pessimistic all at the same time. This is when she's supposed to kiss him for luck and they both know it. He's hoping she will and for her part Chelsea suddenly feels like she's dangling at the end of some kind of thread, swinging in the wind between what if and why not.

If she kisses him then they're back together and Mike was just exactly what he had been meant to be all along; a rebound and nothing more. On the other hand, if she doesn't kiss him, here in front of all of these people, some of them friends, then there will be questions, there will be looks and worse than that, she'll have hurt him and after what he'd done by not taking advantage of her when she practically begged him to that seems unforgivable.

She can feel her pulse rise as she walks towards him and the way Jimmy tries not to look like an eager puppy tugs at her heart strings. She could still walk away. He knows it and she knows it and if he takes it for granted that she won't then she definitely will. Even as she stands in front of him she hasn't made up her mind completely. It isn't until he grins like he's just been given his heart's desire and relief flashes behind his blue eyes that she knows. Right up until that moment she could have kissed his cheek and she knows as she goes up on tip toe now that if that was all she'd offered he'd have taken it gratefully.

His arms are a familiar confinement when they wrap around the small of her back. They don't remind her of being in an anaconda's clutches like it does when Mike holds her but it is like putting on a seat belt, familiar, tried and true. His lips are warm and soft when they capture hers but the kiss doesn't make her toes curl. The kiss is like the first mouthful of homemade apple pie; as warm and good as you remember it being, but it isn't chocolate mousse.

"Good luck Jimmy," she whispers as he holds onto her a beat or two too long, almost like he's afraid to let her go.

"I'm going to make this run for you," he tells her earnestly and she can't help but smile and nod. She knows he'll take down that steer and wrestle it into submission and when he does he'll turn and grin up at her and if his hat hasn't come off in the process he'll toss it into the air. She knows all of that like she knows that the sun will go down tonight and come up again in the morning.

"I'll be right here," she tells him and goes back up on tip toe to gently brush her lips against his again. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Her heart breaks a little but she holds that smile and all of the affection she has for him and every ounce of safety she feels in his presence in her eyes and when he turns and heads for the chute she knows the extra bounce in his step is something she's put there.

There are other girls, other women leaning on the rails watching the big men who do this event show off their muscles. She knows some of them and she looks longingly towards an empty spot at the railing where some of the other barrel riders are whistling and calling out bawdy cat calls to Jimmy as he climbs into the saddle. She can remember being one of them, being a little insecure when some of the girls with their blonde pony tails and flashy tasselled blouses would call out to him, offering their special favors if he won.

"Chels?" She freezes as she turns to head in the direction of those familiar faces. Dropping her head she knows without needing him to tell her that he's seen the whole exchange. The hurt in his voice makes it crystal clear that he'd seen it all.

* * *

><p>Finding her in this crowd was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack, Mike thought as he took back his ticket and headed into the grandstands. He scanned every face as he sidestepped through the aisle, his ass bumping buckets of popcorn as he followed Brooks towards their seats. He hadn't wanted to sit, hadn't wanted to buy the tickets at all but it had been their only way in. Even now he didn't want to sit, didn't think that he could.<p>

He knew that she had to be hating him right now and as every single moment passed he could feel her getting further away from him.

"Hey look at this," Brooks shoved the program into his hand. Mike looked down at without seeing it and then looked helplessly at his friend. He couldn't seriously want him to read this right now. Rolling his eyes the big forward reached over, opened it and pointed to the time and the event scheduled. "Just in time, that's all I'm saying. His event is up."

Mike was from Calgary, he'd been going to Stampede his whole life but he never really got into the whole cowboy thing. Still, he knew what the steer wrestling was. It was for show offs; big guys landing on little cows and looking tough. He sneered.

"Wonder if I can pay someone to sharpen up the cows horns and run the fucker through," he hissed. The woman sitting beside them clapped her hands over her young daughter's ears and Brooks shook his head. Mike shrugged and slid further down in his seat.

"Can you just look for her without running your pie hole?" Brooks hissed back at him and Mike hunched his shoulders and tried to become one with the seat. There were all manner, shape and size of cowboys milling around the chutes. He'd thought he'd be able to pick Jimmy out but as hard as he stared at every single straw cowboy hat, one beanpole in jeans looked pretty much like the rest; until he saw her red hair. That was like a beacon in the darkness.

Mike was on his feet and shoving his way down the aisle, stepping on toes and knocking over popcorn buckets and gallons of pop before winning his way to the stairs and flying down them. He thought he heard Brooks calling after him, spouting some kind of well meaning suggestion no doubt, but he'd had quite enough of the big man's advice and ignored the voice behind him. Instead, he zeroed on the way her ass poured into those dark jeans and how the white stitching hugged her curves in a way that made his mouth water.

"Hey buddy, where do you think you're going?" Someone stepped in front of him and he had a split second to think that the guy had made a stupid decision before he straight armed him out of his path. Mike heard the guy call after him but just as he'd done with Brooks, he ignored the shouted warning and continued towards his goal.

And then he wished he hadn't. Then he wished he'd never woken up, never gotten dressed or got in the car to come to this god forsaken place. He swayed on his feet as he watched her go up on tip toes to offer her succulent mouth to the big dopey goof in the hat. He felt his stomach try and crawl up and out of his mouth as he watched their bodies fit together until there was no day light between them. He dry heaved as he saw the soft, love struck look on the big dick head's face as he let her go.

'_Go'_ he told himself, '_go now and pretend you didn't see this'_ but her name escaped his lips before he could listen to his own advice. He was going to have to work on that, on thinking before he spoke and most importantly on considering his actions before he went running ahead like a bull in a china shop. If only he'd done that he might not be here now, he thought as he watched her scanning the faces of those nearest to her. He hoped she was looking for him but as her name escaped his lips unbidden, his mouth moving before he'd had a chance to stop himself, he knew, just by the way her head suddenly dipped and all of those red curls fell into her eyes that he was wrong and, worse than that, that he was much too late.

"You shouldn't be here," she said quietly, looking at him through her lashes. He wanted to believe that she couldn't face him. He was half afraid that she would and that he wouldn't see himself in her eyes. He wanted to be fearless and tell her she was the one who shouldn't be here but when he opened his mouth to say the words, those weren't the words that spilled out.

"I'm an ass; a fucking ass. Ask anyone. But that guy? I know I fucked up but..._that_ guy, really?" Brooks had told him to grovel. Mike had planned to beg and he knew that he didn't have the right to feel betrayed after what he'd done but he was currently fighting the urge to kick that skinny jean wearing cowpoke in the family jewels.

"He's…," she turned to look towards where horses were currently being loaded into chutes and a hesitant smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "He's dependable," she said quietly. In other words, not a cheating douchebag like him. Mike nodded. He didn't need to be told. He knew what he'd done was the worst thing in the world.

"I made a mistake," he made a grab for her arm. She took a step back and stuck her hands in her back pockets. "Okay, a big, bad fucking huge ass mistake but I swear to god it will never happen again." Her smile got sad and then she dropped her gaze and kicked her boot into the dirt.

"I'm sure you mean that," she whispered. He barely heard her over the announcer's voice but he could read her lips, he'd had practice; all those nights of looking for instruction, harder, slower….

"What the…?" Mike moved faster than she could step away from him this time and grabbed her with both hands. "Fucking yell at me or something. C'mon let's fight. Call me names. Jesus fucking Christ, don't just stand there and act like it's no big deal to you." Those intense green eyes of hers looked into his and Mike felt the ground being pulled out from under his feet as he wondered how he could have already lost. It felt like he'd come out of the bathroom for the third period only to find he'd already missed the whole thing.

"I don't want to fight with you Mike," she told him, her gaze poignant but unwavering. "You should just go." It was on the tip of his tongue to ask where. He'd expected her to tell him to go to hell. He hadn't expected her to be so damn calm.

"But I told you I loved you." It had come to this. He was panicking and reaching into the bottom of his bag of tricks and pulling out the only card he felt like he had left to play and she just stood there looking at him as if he was the very sweet but kind of slow kid in class.

"I think that we both know that's just something you say in the heat of the moment." If she'd kicked him in the balls it couldn't have hurt anymore Mike thought as he stared back at her. He'd been accused of a lot of things, been called a lot of names, on and off of the ice, but none of it, including the concussion he'd had last season had wounded him like this.

"I guess if that's what you want to believe it doesn't matter what I say now huh?" he asked, putting on that mask he often wore out on the ice, the one that he hoped said he was one bad mamajama that shouldn't be fucked with and more importantly that he didn't care if you thought he was some kind of manboy for driving a scooter. "Well then I'll just say it's been a slice," he said, giving her a smile that in no way matched the emotion he knew was in his eyes; the one where he kinda hoped her boyfriend fell off his horse and was trampled to death and that she grew old all alone.

He held onto her a minute too long. Jesus Christ he thought he was going to cry as she blinked back at him, looking at him as if he was one of those scary guys from a horror movie whose face was all burlap sack and stitches, like she didn't know him at all, which seemed right.

He'd been a total fucking asshole and if she'd yelled and slapped and scratched he'd have gladly taken the abuse. He had no idea what to do with being kissed off like this. So with one last look at the freckles that bridged her nose and the way her hair curled against the moonlight pale skin of her cheeks, Mike forced himself to let go of her without saying any of the spiteful and angry words that were running around in his head, then he turned on his heel and left, without looking back.

* * *

><p>"Second's not bad," Jimmy reached across the bench seat of his pick up for her hand. Chelsea looked down at his big man paw with its long fingers and wondered if her hands were still shaking. She had been able to paint a smile on her face and congratulate him and she'd even been able to stand beside him like a dutiful girlfriend while other people patted him on the back and openly admired the gash the steer had opened on his arm like it was a trophy. Now that they were alone, she wasn't sure if she was going to be able to keep up the facade.<p>

"No," she replied, giving him a quick smile, "not too bad at all." He gave her hand a squeeze and then let it go for which she was grateful. Chelsea put her hand on her lap, laced it with her other one and turned her attention out the passenger side window. It was too hard to watch Jimmy humming happily while her hands felt clammy and her stomach was still churning like she'd had bad Chinese.

"It's good to see the whole gang again," he continued, blissfully unaware of how her skin was prickling with anxiety. She wanted to tell him to shut up, that all that she could think of was the look of revulsion on Mike's face, as if she'd been the one that had done something unspeakable in front of God and everyone. She'd withdrawn somewhere inside of herself, hidden away like a rolled up hedgehog in a shrub at the side of the road and she was a little ashamed of herself for it.

"I should have slapped him," she muttered, digging her nails into her palms as her entire body began to shake, the shock just beginning to wear off, a slow burning rage taking its place.

"What was that? Did you want to go home to change before we go to Cowboys?" Jimmy asked, turning to glance over at her, his contented grin like a ray of sunshine cutting through the emotional fog that had descended over her. She looked at his blue eyes, at the way the sunlight made his fair hair shine like wheat blowing in the wind and felt her chest get tight.

"I don't deserve your forgiving me like this," she blurted out. His smile faded but just when she thought that she would see that blank expression take its place that would mean he didn't want to talk about it, what she saw instead was a sort of empathetic tenderness she didn't think she deserved.

"Remember when you left for Washington, when I told you that you were free?" Chelsea nodded. It had felt like someone had lifted a noose from around her neck at the time. "I meant it," he told her with an earnest smile, reaching across the cab with one hand and brushing the back of his hand along her cheek and then into her hair. "I didn't think you'd bring that back here," he added, sobering as he turned his attention back to the road, "but on the other hand, I knew I could never keep you long if I didn't let you spread your wings a little bit." He effortlessly twirled her hair around his finger and then let it go so that it bounced against her cheek. "I'm just sorry you got hurt in the process," he added quietly, letting his hand fall onto the seat between them. Chelsea stared down at his hand, at his long fingers, remembering the way his tough, calloused skin had felt against hers' and she shuddered. "Cold?" he asked, his gaze and the barest hint of a smile showing genuine concern. He reached for the controls for the air conditioner but she surprised herself by reaching out to stop him. He looked over at her, his eyes narrowed, confused.

"So you'll have me back, just like that?" she asked. His grin broadened.

"Of course," he said without a pause for thought.

"Then we should get married, soon," she blurted out. Jimmy swerved, cranking the truck over onto the shoulder of the road in a shower of gravel.

"Do you mean it?" he asked, his face saying that he hoped she'd say yes, his eyes saying he thought she'd say no.

"Yeah," she replied, letting him wrap her up in his arms in a joyous bear hug. She bit back the rest of the sentence, '_I think'_ and did her best not to feel her heart break apart in her chest.

* * *

><p>"Don't you think you've had enough?" Mike looked up at his friend over the bottle he'd just opened and grinned.<p>

"Never," he replied and then tipped the bottle up to his lips and proceeded to try to empty it. Brooks raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. He was on his second bottle of JD and he could still feel his broken heart in his chest. He was going to need another bottle.

"Pick a girl, _any_ girl in this fucking place, take her home, bone the shit out of her and I guaranfuckingtee you will feel a hundred percent better." Mike paused, bottle still in his hand and then shook his head, tilted the bottle back and drained it.

"More!" Mike slammed the bottle down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand.

"Dude, you need to slow down," Nicky sighed, even as he signaled the waitress to bring another bottle. She looked at Mike and shook her head. He grinned at her. She had red hair. He liked red heads.

"No, what I _need_ is not to take dating advice from Johnny Drama over there," he moaned, aiming a threatening look at Brooks who only shrugged and then went back to admiring the scantily glad cowgirls out on the dance floor.

"You could still get her back," Nicky told him and that, to Mike, seemed hilarious. He put his head down on the table and laughed until he remembered that he was upset, so he reached for the bottle, which was still empty.

"More!" he demanded, slamming the bottle down and then reaching for the half empty pint in front of Brooks who was obviously nowhere near as drunk as he was because the glass was gone before Mike could even reach across the table.

"I could try and talk to her for you," Nicky offered, peeling off a fifty to hand to the waitress who stood above them with the bottle dangling enticingly from her fingers. She had red nail polish. Her fingers would look good around his cock. '_No. No, that's how you got into this mess'_ he reminded himself, watching her tuck the fifty into her cleavage as Nicky took the bottle. Mike reached for it. Nicky held it away from him. "You are not so drunk we could not go to one of your Timmy Hortons and get you a coffee and then we could go see her, together," his Swedish friend offered. Mike eyed the bottle and then narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"Gimme." Shaking his head, Nicky held the bottle just out of his reach.

"I thought you loved her." Mike growled and made a swipe at the bottle. His fingers brushed it but he couldn't close his hand around it.

"Gimmethedamnthing," he snarled, making another swipe at it and coming up with nothing but air.

"Well? Do you? Do you love the girl?" Mike had never been mad at Nicky before, but he was getting mad now. He stared at the bottle and then looked up into his road roomie's eyes.

"Gimmethefuckingbottle or I swear I'm gonna rip your fucking head off and let Ovie use it as a sock puppet," he said as slowly and as ominously as he could. Backsy sighed but didn't look the least bit worried as he handed him the bottle. Mike took it and was twisting off the top when he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He told himself it was just the waitress but that didn't stop him from turning and watching her walk across the floor; or rather be led, pulled behind like a cart attached to a big fucking donkey.

"No no no _no_!" Nicky had a hold of his arm before he even knew he was going to get up. Brooks was off of his bar stool and grabbing a hold of the back of Mike's belt before he'd even gotten all of the way to his feet. At that moment they'd have needed Boogard, may his soul be at peace, and a tow truck to stop Mike from following them to the bar.

"This is not a good idea man," Brooks hissed in his ear as he tried, in vain, to pull Mike back down onto his bar stool. Mike laughed. As if he didn't already know that. As if the warning bells weren't already going off in his head.

He didn't want to be that guy, the mug shot on Monday morning on the front of the Sports page. He didn't want the call from Leonsis' office telling him to get his heinie back to Washington. He didn't want the stern talking to from McPhee. He certainly didn't want to see the look of disappointment on his mother's face when her son had to stand up in court and plead guilty to battery. Even so, knowing all of that, he didn't sit back down. Instead he turned and glared at his friends.

"Let. Go." Brooks did, with a shake of his head and a roll of those big blue eyes the ladies liked so much. Nicky, on the other hand, held fast.

"You'll regret it," his blonde, baby faced friend warned. Mike grinned.

"I already fucking do."


	18. Chapter 18

_I wasn't always this way  
>I used to be the one with the halo<br>But that disappeared when I had my first taste  
>And fell from grace<br>It left me in this place  
>I'm starting to think maybe you like it<em>

_I tear you down  
>I'll make you bleed eternally<br>Can't help myself  
>From hurting you when it's hurting me<br>I don't have wings  
>So flyin with me won't be easy<br>Cause I'm not an angel  
>I'm not an angel<em>

_(lyrics from "I'm Not An Angel" by Halestorm)_

**Chapter 18**

The guy was being lauded like he was some kind of big deal. The bartender was waving off his money like it was no good. Other guys were patting him on the back like he'd accomplished something important. The only thing Mike could see was that he was pulling Chelsea around like she was his personal caboose. He really, _really_ hoped someday he'd win the Cup, but if she was his he'd never, _ever_ put her second like that.

"Let me pay for those," Mike fished a wad of bills out of his pocket and offered it to the bartender. People who really were big deals flashed cash, they bought the first round, not accepted it like a gift. She turned at the sound of his voice which made him feel minutely better. At least she hadn't forgotten him altogether.

She gave him one of those warning looks, the '_don't go there'_ look, and that made him feel just a little better. So she didn't want him to get his ass kicked, well that was something.

"Oh c'mon baby, let me offer my congratulations, you know, on getting my sloppy seconds." He'd been as disgusted as anyone when that fucking douche Avery had said those words about Phaneuf dating his ex, but they made Mike smile now when the words slid off of his tongue. Chelsea looked pained but the words weren't aimed at her.

The big guy turned slowly. It was like watching a tall tree sway in a windstorm. The colour of his eyes was like looking into the eye of a hurricane. Mike had a split second to think that he'd just made a really stupid mistake, kind of like spearing Ott on purpose; you couldn't help wanting to do it even though you knew the result was going to be a whole new world of pain.

"I'm sure I didn't hear that right," the big man said slowly and deliberately as he leaned in towards him. "You do know I was there first, before anyone else, right?" It might have looked friendly to a bystander, with Jimmy's hand resting on Mike's shoulder and he could hear the big shit eating grin in the big guy's voice as he whispered in his ear, but the little voice in the back of Mike's head was telling him to save his own skin and back away slowly now. Still, the other voice in his head, the cocky young stud, told him to put up his dukes.

"Oh yeah, well, I made her scream my name," he grinned up at the straw hat wearing cowpoke and wondered how long he'd be able to stand up with him. His ego was telling him that all of those early morning workouts, all those arm curls, all those push ups would have the big slow speaking dolt on his knees in no time. That little voice in the back of his head, his reality check, was laughing at his expense.

"Maybe you did," Jimmy smiled, all teeth and twinkling blue eyes that, just like a dog, was a warning that Mike knew he should be heeding as the big man took off his cowboy hat and put it carefully on the bar behind him. "Or, just maybe, CeeCee didn't want you to feel bad about your...little pecker." He heard Chelsea's sharp intake of breath right before the crowd around them laughed nervously. He wondered how many of them had seen Jimmy fight before. He wondered if any one of them would be willing to give him some tips.

"I don't think Chels had any complaints, didya Chels?" Mike turned towards her, hating that she was trying to hide behind her boyfriend and hating it even more when she scowled at him.

"You mean other than you sticking your eeny teeny weenie in some other woman?" Jimmy stepped between them and grinned menacingly. Mike glared around him at Chelsea who looked like she was trying to make herself invisible. It was one thing for her to go running back to Jimmy. It was another thing to tell him their business.

"Chelsea, I said it didn't mean anything," he began, reaching for her and getting only empty air as she pulled her arm back away from him.

"I'll tell you what it means," Jimmy said in a slow, deliberate growl as he grabbed a hold of the front of Mike's shirt. "It means you stay away from her. It means you don't talk to, don't contact and don't even _look_ at her. You feel me, buddy?"

Mike heard it, heard the threat and knew it was probably suicidal to ignore it, but he did anyway. His gaze was locked on the pleading expression on Chelsea's face.

"Chels, you once told me that you hadn't seen enough of the world. I can give you the whole god damn world on a silver platter. All he can give you is this little corner of it, and we both know that won't ever be enough for you."

* * *

><p>Chelsea could hear her grandfather's words in Mike's plea and it sent a shiver down her spine. There was such a jumble of emotions inside of her, with half of her wanting to smack him and the other half of her wanting to forgive him everything and let him take her out of the bar, out of this city. A few minutes ago she thought she'd made up her mind, thought she'd come to terms with her decision but now, even though she could have spat in his face for calling her <em>sloppy seconds, <em>there was a part of her that still wanted to kiss his face off.

"Go _away_ Mike," she pleaded with him but he stood his ground, even with the imposing figure of Jimmy standing guard.

"Just tell me you love this big...," Mike looked up at Jimmy and then back at her, "jackass and I'll go." His dark eyes pleaded with her not to do it and Chelsea felt her stomach try to climb up through her throat.

"Just...just go," she begged, turning away so she didn't have to watch him practically begging on his knees.

"You heard the lovely lady," she heard Jimmy add, sounding a little too pleased with himself. She winced. The whole testosterone thing was getting to be a bit much and she really didn't want there to be a fight.

"I don't take orders from you, cowboy bob," she heard Mike growl. She could feel the tension between them. A wrong word, sideways glance, and she knew the fists were going to come out.

"Stop," she moaned, dropping her forehead onto the back of her arms, "both of you just _stop_ it."

"Chelsea," she felt his hand on the small of her back and just for a second she remembered how comforting that was.

"Mike, you need to go," she hissed.

"Yes, _Mike_, take a walk," Jimmy growled, sounding far less friendly.

"You haven't said it," Mike whispered, his voice in her ear, the width of his chest blocking out the light. Chelsea ground her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut. "Chels, I know you..."

"You _don't_ know. You don't know _anything_ about me if you think that I can just forget what you did," she snapped, her eyes filling with tears of humiliation and confusion. "You don't know anything if you think I could forgive you for that." She watched her words wound him, as if each syllable was a barb she was pressing into his skin. It seemed fair; after all, he'd broken her heart. "So just go Mike, _please_," she whispered, turning her exhausted gaze away from his and reaching for one of the shots that had been lined up on the bar. She tipped the liquid into her mouth and felt the burn at the back of her throat.

"Unless of course you want to stay for this."

Chelsea understood, in that moment, how silence could be truly deafening. The music, which never stopped in Cowboys, suddenly ceased and it seemed, as she slowly turned around, that every pair of eyes in the place were now staring at her. It was like that dream she'd had, or maybe it had been a nightmare, where she was standing naked in front of a crowd.

It took her a full minute to realize that Jimmy had gotten down on one knee in front of her. It took at least another five seconds to realize that what he was pulling out of his shirt, what was catching the light on the end of the chain around his neck, was the engagement ring she'd given back to him when she'd left for Washington. She watched, barely breathing, as he slid the ring from the chain into the palm of his hand and despite the fact that she had brought this subject up back in the truck, the only thought that kept replaying in her head, over and over again, was '_Oh god, please don't'._

He turned those blue eyes of his up to meet her gaze, his boyish smile lighting his entire face. She wanted to tell him '_not here, not now'_ but when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing would come out. She looked at Mike, part of her hoping that he'd say it for her but he was only shaking his head and looking sick. She wanted to tell him this wasn't her idea but the words died on her lips when he turned his furious gaze away. She was still staring at his profile when she felt Jimmy sliding the ring on her finger. She didn't even remember saying yes.

* * *

><p>Now it was like he'd won best in show or whatever the big prize was for Stampede. Mike stood there, sick to his stomach and trying to decide if life without the possibility of parole was an actual option, while half the bar came to congratulate the big string bean in the hat.<p>

"Let's go." It was Nicky at his elbow. Of course it was. Nicky was the reasonable one, the logical one. He could give Spock a run for his fucking money. Mike nodded. After all, there was definitely no more to see here, apart from his heart lying on the floor, being stomped all over.

He turned and was allowing Nicky to lead him away from crowd when he realized she wasn't where she had just been. He only saw her out of the corner of his eye, making her escape, shoving her way through a group of women near the door.

"I'll be right back," he mumbled to Nicky and made a feint towards the bathrooms. It was a good thing guys didn't go to the john en masse as Nicky didn't even make a move to follow him which was also a good thing. Nicky would definitely try and talk him out of this.

As soon as rounded the dance floor he made a beeline back towards the door and out into the warm night air.

She was standing near the old battered pick up that he'd seen sitting near her barn like she wanted to lean on it but wouldn't. The paint on the truck was faded and chipped and the whole thing was covered in a thin layer road dust. He thought that she looked so shiny and clean in comparison in a sapphire coloured shirt with the shiny silver collar and the dark jeans that hugged her ass but he knew that neither of those compared to the way her hair shone dark copper red in moonlight.

"You can't marry him," he said simply. She didn't look up, but he could see an ironic sort of smile tug at one corner of her lip.

"No?" was her only reply.

"You don't love him. At most you pity him. You can't make a life out of that," he insisted. She glanced up at him and the tears in her eyes shimmered in the darkness.

"No?" she replied again, that same ironic smile now fading as she returned her gaze to the toes of her snakeskin boots. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, but he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans instead.

"We could go, right now. I could charter a plane. We could go anywhere you want. Never come back," he offered, feeling a sense of panic rising when she would not react. She scuffed the sole of her boot against the ground and shook her head so that all of those deep red ringlets fell into her face.

"_You_ could," she mumbled, "but I have...responsibilities." Mike clenched his teeth as he rocked up onto his toes and then back onto his heels.

"You mean the farm? Ranch? What the fuck ever. Fucking sell it or I'll pay for someone to look after it, whatever," he offered. She glanced up at him through all of that hair and just the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her full, ripe mouth.

"Do you really think it's as easy as that?" She made a dismissive noise and went back to digging the toe of her boot into the ground.

"No. Yes, I don't know, maybe. Fuck!" He grabbed his hair and pulled as he stared at her. "You're a fucking means to an end for that asshole, can't you see that?" He yelled. He didn't mean to yell. He expected her to flinch. Maybe even to flee. She did neither. She just shrugged her shoulders and then sniffed.

"I know," she replied quietly, turning those amazing green eyes up at him. "That doesn't mean he doesn't love me, in his own way," she added, reaching up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. His hands flew out of his pockets and before he'd even thought about it, he had her by her shoulders and was shaking her like an errant child.

"How can you do this? How can you throw your life away on someone who sees you as just another piece of fucking property?" He wanted to make her cry now but she just stared back at him, blinking and hiccupping, almost laughing.

"Why does it matter to you Mike? You don't care about me," she grinned in that hysterical sort of way, crying and giggling at the same time. He stared at her, shaking his head.

"Don't care? What...don't care? I fucking _love_ you." He surprised himself by saying it. It felt strange to say it but as soon as the words slipped out he knew he meant every word. She shook her head and then pushed him away as she turned around, reached up and rubbed the back of her hand beneath her nose.

"Yeah, that's totally why the first opportunity you had to stick your dick into something that wasn't me you took it just like that," she snapped her fingers in his face and then shoved him away.

"That was a mistake, how many times do you want me to fucking tell you that?" he snapped, trying to grab her again. She pushed his hand away.

"God! Please, stop trying to make yourself the victim in all of this Mike; like I'm doing this _to_ you. You made a choice because you scared the shit out of yourself y by having an actual feeling. It's okay," she grinned, shrugging her shoulders. "Hey, I ran away from all this before. I know what it's like not to want to be tied down to something."

"So why let yourself? Why fucking do this?" he asked, grabbing her hand and holding up the ring, shaking her hand as he did. "Why put yourself back in those chains?"

"Is that what you think they are Mike? Chains? Do you think I'm selling myself into servitude?" Her eyes got big and then she tipped her head back and laughed. "Jesus fucking Christ Mike, he didn't just buy me at the white slave market," she added rubbing at her eyes and walking away from him. He grabbed the back of her shirt and swung her around.

"You fucking love me too." He wanted to sound confident when he said it. He hardly did at all. In fact, as he stared down into her leaf green eyes, he wasn't sure at all.

"Yeah," she replied quietly, reaching up to touch her fingertips to his bottom lip, "maybe, for a minute or two. Then I came to my senses and saw who you really are when you fucked that tramp." Her ironic little smile turned into a grimace and then she turned and walked away.


	19. Chapter 19

_'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me  
>And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be<br>Thinkin' maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet  
>And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street<br>So I'm not moving, I'm not moving_

_People talk about the guy that's waiting on a girl  
>There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world<em>

Maybe I'll get famous as the man who can't be moved  
>Maybe you won't mean to but you'll see me on the news<br>And you'll come running to the corner  
>'Cause you'll know it's just for you<br>I'm the man who can't be moved

_(lyrics from "The Man Who Can't Be Moved" from the Script)_

**Chapter 19**

"Your mother would be so happy."

It was her thought too as Chelsea cautiously lifted the dress from the cedar chest that had sat, unopened, at the foot of her parents bed ever since she could remember. She felt the heavy white satin slip through her fingers as she gingerly held the dress up in front of her. She'd only seen this dress in pictures. She'd known where it was, but her mother, with her shining eyes, would only shake her head when her daughter would ask to see it.

'_One day'_ she'd say, and then cup her daughter's cheek and smile. Chelsea wished she could lean into that hand now. She felt her mother's loss now more than ever.

"It's huge," she breathed, looking down at the spill of heavy satin and lace at her feet.

"Yeah, something about Princess Diana," her father mused quietly behind her. Chelsea looked over at her shoulder at him. His gaze was blurred with tears she knew he wouldn't shed. Not now. Not in front of her. "They all had to have the big dresses after that," he added, reaching out to gingerly brush his fingers over the marshmallow puff shoulders. "I'm sure you can work with it. You and your Gran, some scissors and you'll have something that doesn't scream early eighties," he added as he kissed the top of her head.

Cut it up? It seemed like sacrilege she thought as she ran her hand over the light lavender ribbons on the boned bodice, but the sleeves _were_ a bit much. She hadn't even looked at the headpiece but she knew she'd never wear the thing that, in all of the pictures she knew by heart, looked like a crown made out of ice and toile. Even her mother had laughed, later when her daughter would ask about it. '_That was just they style baby_' her mother had told her and then she would grin and say '_your mother was stylin'.'_

Yes, the sleeves would have to go and she didn't think she had the ego to get away with the eight foot train either, Chelsea thought as she slid her foot under it and kicked it out along the carpet. Not in a little country church.

"Let's get the pins." Chelsea looked up to see her grandparents standing in the doorway, the morning light shining behind them and she felt her tears overflow. The gentle light shining in made it feel like her mother was there, wearing the same expression her grandparents were, that said '_isn't she so pretty_?' "We'll go in the front room," her Gran added, with a wink. "The light's better there."

"Shan's coming to get me, we were going shopping for a dress," she told them, surrendering the dress to her smaller, slighter grandmother who draped it over both of her arms.

"Well you don't have to shop now," her Grandfather told her as he took her in his arms and held her against the barrel of his chest. "Besides, it'll be nice having her bend over and help pin," he added, just barely dancing out the way when her grandmother aimed a swat at him.

"Watch it old man," her grandmother shook her head at him but her grandfather just grinned and turned to lead their group out of the darkened room and down the hall.

* * *

><p>"Hey, watch it! That's heavy."<p>

Mike stared down at where Brooks was lying on the floor, struggling to get up from under an enormous medicine ball. He wanted to feel sorry for him but he didn't. He was actually kind of sorry that his teammate wasn't bleeding.

"It's your fault," Mike growled, not for the first time. Brooks rolled his blue eyes, pushed the heavy ball off of his abdomen and held out his hand. Mike grudgingly helped him up. He thought about pulling him hard enough to send him stumbling head first into the rack of free weights behind him but decided against it at the last minute.

"You're not good enough for that little filly anyway," Brooks snorted, giving Mike a playful push. Mike didn't sway even an inch.

"I love her…_loved_…whatever," he hissed, glancing around to see if any of the other athletes might have overheard.

"Well if you loooovvvve her so fucking much why are you here and not on your knees begging for forgiveness?" Brooks asked, reaching for his water bottle and tipping it up to his lips. That was a question that Mike had been asking himself and he gave his teammate the same answer he'd been giving himself since Chelsea had walked away from him in the parking lot of Cowboys.

"If she wants to marry that…fuckface, I'm not gonna stop her." His top lip curled when he said it but as satisfying as it felt to say it, he didn't believe it any more now when he said it out loud than when he said it to himself.

"Like I said, _waaay_ too good for you," Brooks laughed, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his arm and then upending the remnants of his bottle over Mike's head. "Look, _fuckface_," he began, ducking Mike's half hearted swing at his head, "if you lurve her like you seem to then you don't let her marry that guy. Fucking grow a pair and go get her Greener." Mike shook his head. He'd tried. She wanted nothing to do with him and he could understand that because Brooks was right, he was a fucking loser and he didn't deserve her.

"Fuck let's go get faced," he grumbled, ripping his shirt over his head and heading for the showers.

"Yeah, cuz that's gonna help," Brooks called after him.

"It will if it makes me barf on you," Mike called back over his shoulder and his friend's laughter followed him down the hall.

* * *

><p>"I think I could make some sort of bra out of these," Shannon pondered the two pieces of puffy white fabric they'd just cut carefully from the dress as Chelsea slipped into the dress for a second time.<p>

"Why? Are you trying to go for some kind of second time around virgin thing?" Chelsea asked her friend as she held the front of the dress up and waited to be laced in, "because no one would believe you."

"Ugh, who'd want to go through that again?" Chelsea's friend made a face but dropped the two pieces of fabric and picked up the laces to the bodice of the dress. "You know, this looks so much better without those sleeves." Chelsea looked down at the white satin bustier with its purple ribbon accents and the now plain floor length skirt. It was simple but pretty. The essence of the original dress was still there without the frills and gaudy lace edging that had aged it.

"Do you think he'll like it?" she asked, letting her hands slip over the smooth cool fabric now that the laces seemed to be holding the dress up instead of her hands. She heard the disgusted sound Shan made in her throat and tried to ignore it.

"Course I will."

Chelsea's hands flew up to her chest as if she'd been caught naked and her grandmother tipped over sewing kit, sending pins and buttons all over the floor as she jumped in front of her, both trying to cover the dress from his prying eyes. Jimmy leaned in the doorframe, filling it, his grin and shining eyes making it obvious he did like what he saw.

"You're not supposed to see the dress," her grandmother hissed at him like she was trying to put a hex on him.

"Yeah, _jackass_," Shan appeared in front of her, shaking her head and making shooing motions at him. Jimmy just grinned, took off his hat and mopped his brown with the back of his hand.

"You're puttin' somethin' on top of that right? Don't need to be showin' off the girls to everybody. That's for me, not the general public," he added, wiping his hands down along his thighs and then staring down at them like he was trying to decide if they were clean enough for him to come any nearer and then he frowned, like he'd decided against it. "You can put some lace up there, cover some of that up," he suggested, waving his hands at her chest but looking at her Gran. Chelsea looked down at what she thought was a conservative amount of cleavage and frowned.

"I don't think this is too much," she mumbled, thinking about some of the dresses she had up in her closet that she'd worn at balls and banquets in Washington.

"Maybe for fancy dress for a single gal," Jimmy grinned and winked, "but not for my wife."

"You want her to look nice right?" Shannon asked, her arms still outstretched to block his view of a dress he'd obviously already got an eyeful of.

"Sure, just not too nice." He winked at Chelsea again and then put his hat back on as he turned to go back outside. He paused, just as Shan and her Gran were letting down their guards. Both women jumped back in front of her like they were trying to stop a bullet. "You be ready for rehearsal dinner. Don't want to be late for that," he added, tipping his hat and then disappearing from view.

Chelsea waited until she heard the screen door swing shut and then cursed, loudly. Shan whistled low and long.

"Seriously? Did he just fucking seriously tell you he wanted you to wear a burqa to the wedding?" Chelsea shook her head but didn't actually disagree.

"He's just...very traditional, old fashioned." She winced as she defended him and her friend didn't miss that.

"He's just a big fuckface," Shan sniffed and then held up her hand before Chelsea could argue. "No, I know, he's very dependable or whatever other anti romantic Mister Darcy bullshit you want to call it. I just...you know, Mike would love that dress." Chelsea looked down at the boned bustier and sighed. She could imagine him whistling at the end of the aisle and breaking into that big boyish grin of his. The thought made her smile.

"Maybe he would," she agreed quietly, "but I'm not marrying Mike. Gran, is there a shrug or something we could make? Maybe lace? Something I could take off at the reception?"

"Oh you have to be kidding," Shan grumbled and then turned to pick up the sleeves they'd cut off the dress. "Why don't we just sew these back on?"

* * *

><p>"I just wanted to go to a bar," Mike complained as he handed the waiter back the menu.<p>

"Yeah but this way you get food in your system," Nicky pointed out. Mike rolled his eyes.

"Yeah and then it just takes longer for me to get faced and that wasn't the point." Nicky looked at him disapprovingly and Mike just rolled his eyes and reached for his rum and coke. The liquid felt cool and smooth as it slid down his throat and then it just sort of stopped there.

"Oh fuckity hell," Brooks hissed following the direction of Mike's gaze to the group that was just being seated near them. Mike agreed with the sentiment but couldn't say anything. His mouth wouldn't move and his heart was warring with the liquid still stuck in his throat as they tried to pass each other.

"We should go," Nicky said quietly, putting his napkin back on the table.

"No," Mike managed to squeak, just, and pushed his friend back down. After that night at Cowboys he'd never thought he'd actually see her again. If he could just look now, if he could just watch her, he wanted to do that.

She looked beautiful with all those red waves cascading around her shoulders in a simple dark emerald green sheath dress. He couldn't see from where he was sitting but he knew that her eyes would be shining like jewels.

"Oh jeeeezus," Brooks groaned as he looked at the table where she sat with her family and a couple of friends and then back at Mike. "Don't do this man. What, are you just gonna sit here and torture yourself?" he asked. Mike nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly, reaching for his drink and downing it. "Now get me another."

"You should try to talk to her again," Nicky encouraged him quietly. Mike didn't take his eyes off of her but shook his head.

"Talked to her. She doesn't wanna hear it. Got nothin' else to say." He mumbled, watching as Jimmy pulled her chair out for her, feeling his stomach turn over as she looked up at him and as he smiled down at her.

"It might be your last chance," Nicky prodded. Mike glanced at his friend and then back at her. Jesus his chest hurt.

"No point," he said brusquely as the waiter showed up with their appetizer and took his empty glass. "Look at them, like they're in fucking love or something," he moaned but couldn't take his eyes off of her.

* * *

><p>"Mmm, the wings at this place are so good," Chelsea licked her lips as she looked at the pictures accompanying the menu.<p>

"Another time," Jimmy whispered into her ear, sliding the menu out of her hand and putting it down on top of his on the table.

"What?" she felt startled. She always had the wings when they came to this restaurant. They made her eyes water and her tongue was usually numb after but they were sooo good.

"They're so messy. You always get some on you," he replied matter-of-factly as he gave her a half hug, pulling her against his body. "Not very lady like," he added, kissing her temple and then turning back to the conversation he'd been having with her father but without removing his arm from where it possessively held her around her shoulders.

Chelsea stared at the stacked menus.

"But I like the wings, they're my favourite," she reiterated.

"I said another time," he whispered, giving her shoulder a pat with his hand.

"So now you're ordering for me?" she snarled, still keeping her voice low but Shan and her Gran had both stopped talking and turned to look at them. She could feel Jimmy go still, feel him sit up straighter, his feather ruffled. But when he looked down at her, he was still smiling, though the smile wasn't warm.

"I'm about to be your husband CeeCee, so yes, I am." It wasn't a suggestion. There was no thought at all. It was a statement of fact and the tone of his voice made it plain as day that there would be no discussion of the matter. This was just how it was.

Chelsea knew her mouth was hanging open, but she was so furious, so humiliated that she couldn't think of a single retort.

"Well then I guess you don't need me right now," she whispered, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet.

"I'm right behind you," she heard Shan say but she shook her head. Right now she was in no mood for smug 'I told you so's' or more questions about why she was marrying him. Right now she wanted to just be alone.

Clutching her bag in both of her hands to stop herself from waving her hands in the air like a maniac as she muttered epithets under her breath, she stormed towards the bathrooms. As she weaved through the tables waiters and waitresses jumped out of her way. When she went to push the bathroom door open a woman coming out literally cringed as she looked at the expression on Chelsea's face.

By the time she stood at the counter staring back at her own countenance she was crying, fat bitter tears or self recrimination.

* * *

><p>Mike watched her storm away from the table and realized he was getting to his feet to go after her. He knew by the way her shoulders were hunched but her chin was up that her lanky cowboy had to have done or said something to upset her. That made him smile. He might not be good enough for her but Jimmy was a douche.<p>

"What are you gonna say?" It was Nicky who tugged at Mike's sleeve, stopping his forward momentum. Mike looked down into his friend's round face and realized that he had no idea. He shrugged.

"Dunno," he admitted, "just have to try though right?" Nicky gave him an encouraging smile.

"Good luck Greeny," he said with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, good luck Greener, you're gonna need it," Brooks muttered, lifting his glass to his lips, setting the ice in his glass clinking as he emptied the cheap scotch from it.

"Thanks," he replied and meant it.

He took the long way around to the hallway she'd disappeared down. He didn't want Jimmy or even her family seeing that he was following her. He didn't know what she'd told them but he couldn't imagine that it was very good.

The hallway was empty and Mike found himself standing in front of the women's bathroom wondering if he should wait, knock or just barge in. If he just went in, unannounced, she wouldn't e able to say no which she could do if he knocked. But then again, if there was someone else in there, he could imagine the twitter feed now; '_Pervert Mike Green peeks into women's bathroom'. _It would be all over the internet in an hour and he'd be getting a call from the club by morning. It was better to wait.

He leaned against the opposing wall and tried to think of something else, something better to say when she came out. What he had to do was grovel, he knew that, but it wasn't something he was used to doing. In fact, he didn't think he'd done much grovelling, ever. He wasn't sure where to start.

He tried to think how guys did it in movies. He didn't have a rose. There wasn't a special song to play and he didn't have a poem memorized. He was going to have to wing it.

When she emerged her eyes were red rimmed and the tip of her nose was red and Mike's hands curled into fists. He heard himself growl like an angry bear about to charge and she looked up from stuffing tissues back into her bag and stared at him, owl eyed. Her mouth formed his name but no sound came out.

"What did he say?" Mike asked. She blinked at him and frowned like she didn't understand what he was saying, as if he was speaking another language. "What did Jim bob say to you that made you cry?" he hissed at her. She ducked her head to one side and shook her head so that her hair fell in front of her face.

"Nothing," she mumbled. "It's just nerves, jitters, whatever." He knew she was lying and it made him grind his teeth together.

"I will take him outside and kick his fucking ass, just say the word," he offered, his chest filling, puffing out as he thought about mashing his knuckles into that smug fucker's face. She glanced up at him through the flaming waterfall of her hair and smiled.

"I know you would Mike, but I don't need you to, honest," she added, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. "What are...what are you doing here?" she asked, looking around as if it had just occurred to her that maybe he was here with a date, that maybe he was waiting her for his date to come out of the bathroom.

"Just with Brooks and Nicky," he told her quickly. "You look like you're having a family thing," he added, trying to keep her talking.

"Um..well, yeah, kind of," she admitted and then he saw her glance down at her hand. She spread the fingers of her left hand out and then curled them into a fist and put her hand down at her side. If she thought she'd been hiding the ring, it was too late for that.

"Is this...is this some kind of engagement party?" The word tasted like bitterest poison on his tongue. He kept his hands curled into fists at his side to stop himself from reaching out, grabbing her hand and ripping that ring off.

"Ummm, not exactly," she mumbled, shifting from one foot uneasily to the other. "We just came from the rehearsal," she added in hesitant tone as she stared at her feet. He opened his mouth to say something funny about choir practice and then his brain caught up and he swallowed the stupid words he'd almost spoken out loud.

"So...so, when...like _this_ weekend?" he asked, his pulse suddenly doubling, his blood rushing loud in his ears. He felt queasy and unsteady on his feet. He thought, just maybe, he was going to pass out.

"Saturday afternoon," she told him, her words barely above a whisper.

* * *

><p>Mike gaped at her like she'd said something truly unbelievable and suddenly Chelsea couldn't look at him, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.<p>

"Why the rush?" Mike asked, his cheeks filling before he blew out a breath as if he was trying to calm himself down. She noticed he'd stuffed his hands into jeans and that he was digging the toe of his shoe into the carpet like a little kid standing in the principal's office.

"It was going to be this weekend...before...," her voice trailed away. '_How do you say before you, before I went crazy and lost my mind'_, she wondered as he looked up at her expectantly. "Anyway, it turns out Jimmy never cancelled the booking so...," she shrugged. A few days ago it had seemed like fate, like Jimmy had had so much faith in her that he hadn't given up. But now, suddenly things didn't seem as clear cut.

"So you're just gonna marry him, even though he doesn't make you happy? Even though just a little while ago you told me that you couldn't see yourself living on the ranch forever?" Chelsea felt herself squirming as the focus of his pleading gaze. "Look, even if it's not me… does it _have_ to be him?"

"You just don't know him," she muttered. She felt like she'd been saying that an awful lot. "God, that sounds like I'm defending him," she added with a deep sigh.

"It kinda does," he replied, sounding a little weary.

"I should get back." She clutched her purse in both hands and shuffled her feet. She knew she shouldn't be there, shouldn't be talking to him, but somehow she was reluctant to leave.

"Don't do it." The plea was uttered so quietly that she barely heard it but if she'd thought that she was imaging it, when she looked up at him, the plea was there in his dark eyes. "Please," he added, as if it wasn't clear that he was all but begging on his knees.

"Mike I...I have to go back. They'll be wondering where I am," she whispered and turned to go. She'd only taken a step or two before she felt his hands on her shoulders.

"If...if you change your mind...no strings or anything, but I'll be there. You just have to call." Chelsea closed her eyes and fought the urge to lean back against him, knowing he'd wrap his arms around her and knowing, if he did that, there would be no going back to the table and Jimmy.

"I have to go," she whispered, and with a deep breath she squared her shoulders and walked away from him.


	20. Chapter 20

_They built you a cage of diamonds and gold  
>most beautiful place for you to grow old<br>They brought you the moon and served you the lie  
>and all that you wanted was freedom to fly<em>

_Harness your rage, take a leap of faith  
>to claim back your soul before it's too late<br>Show them no fear, sing them goodbye  
>Leave all but your heart and you're free to fly<em>

_(lyrics from "Heavy" by Laurie Ylönen)_

**Chapter 20**

"You know it's supposed to be bad luck to be together the night before the wedding." Her hand was pressed to the center of his chest and her back was pressed to the front door. She looked up into Jimmy's blazing blue eyes and did her best to smile and look flirtatious when what she was really feeling was more akin to nauseous.

"This born again blushing maiden thing is cute, but you're about to be my wife," he told her, his grip on her wrist a little too tight. Chelsea could feel the beginning of pins and needles in her hand.

"It's traditional to spend the night before the wedding separately," she told him, forcing herself to relax the hand she had pressed against his chest and to toy with the buttons on his shirt instead and felt him ease up as she went up on tip toe to press her lips against his. She closed her eyes and waited, as she had every night when he'd kissed her goodnight, for the butterflies to erupt in her stomach. Tonight, as they had every night, those butterflies stayed dormant.

"Alright," he agreed with a smile, his hand lifting her hair up and over her shoulder, "but tomorrow night," he began, leaning in to press another kiss to her lips.

"Yeah, I know," she agreed knowing that she was dreading it and trying to hide the annoyance of being reminded, again. "You get the old place all painted?" He'd been working on the house in the high meadow for years. He'd been working on it in earnest over the last year. He'd been putting the last lick of paint on it this week.

"Might still smell of wet paint tomorrow," he smiled, wrapping one of her curls around his finger, "but our little house is all ready for the honeymoon," he added, leaning in to whisper in her ear."I even put a fresh coat of paint in the nursery." Chelsea took a deep breath and fought the urge to shudder. This was part of the choice she had made. Jimmy wanted children and lots of them. He'd always been clear on that and she was just as clear that it was how he'd tie her here and of course he would want to start right away. "What should we have first?" he continued, sliding his other hand down over her stomach, "a boy or a girl?"

"I...I don't think we get to decide that," she mumbled, wriggling uncomfortably like a fish on a hook out of water. She knew her father was inside and she genuinely wished that he would flash the porch light on and off as a warning, just as he had done when she was younger. Back then she'd been mortified. Right now it would be a relief.

"Is my little firecracker getting nervous?" she heard him ask playfully, his lips brushing the curve of her neck. "Big day tomorrow," he reminded her again. As if she needed reminding.

"Yeah, you'd better let me get some sleep so I don't have a snooze at the altar." She reached for the door handle behind her, twisted it and felt it give. "See you tomorrow," she said, blowing a kiss as she ducked into the house and slammed the door behind her.

"If you don't want to go through with it, all you have to do is say the word darlin'." Chelsea froze. It took her a moment to realize that the voice she'd heard wasn't Jimmy's, but her grandfather's. The old man sat at the table staring down at the cards he'd lined up as he slowly tapped his fingers on the rest of the deck with only the light of an old kerosene lamp to see by. The hiss the lamp made as it burned the fuel brought back so many memories and made her want to crawl in his lap the way she'd done when she was small, and help him pick out the mates to the cards in his hand. Hanging her head and pushing off from the door, she made her way slowly to the table and dropped heavily into the chair opposite him.

"I'm pretty sure it's just nerves," she told him, or was it herself, as she overlooked his cards and then tapped on an open ten of spades.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked her, putting the nine of hearts up but not looking up at her, "because you've been biting everyone's head off for the last couple of days," he added and that's when he looked up at her, one bushy eyebrow raised.

"Mmmm, yeah," she mumbled, reaching for one of the Oreo cookies he had on a plate, pulling it apart and rolling the gooey white filling into a ball which she then popped into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"Well _that_ sounds definitive," he replied, a sarcastic lilt to his voice as he added an eight of clubs to the line of cards in front of him. "You sure you weren't happier when you were seeing that other young man?" he asked, again without looking up at her. He shuffled through his cards and began again. Chelsea licked her lips reached for another cookie but her grandfather pulled the plate just out of her reach. "Chelsea Abigail Dobryak, do you want to marry Jim tomorrow or don't you?" The same leaf green eyes she'd inherited stared back at her and she knew she could lie to herself, that she could lie to Jimmy and even Mike, but she could never, ever lie to this man.

"No Gramps. No, I don't."

* * *

><p>Mike lay staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He couldn't sleep. Not knowing that tomorrow he was going to lose any chance at getting her back.<p>

When he'd taken Nicky and Brooks to the airport both of them had encouraged him to buy a ticket and get on the plane with them. He'd been tempted but in the end even the thought of all the short skirts in the windy streets of D.C. couldn't entice him to leave, yet.

He'd expected at least Brooks to have a good laugh at his expense when he'd told them his plans but both men had surprised him by offering to stay and back him up. He'd turned them down. This was something he needed to do on his own.

Not that he knew what he was going to say. He thought he'd already said everything he could and she'd made it pretty clear that she'd made her choice and it wasn't him.

But there was one more thing he could say and as he lay on his back in the dark, he was amazed that the thought of saying it didn't make him sick to his stomach and send him running for the Pepto Bismol. A brief few weeks ago he had been happy to have a different girl every night and he knew that Mike, the old Mike, would have laughed at the very idea of carrying out the plan that had formed in his head. But that Mike hadn't known Chelsea and new Mike didn't want to imagine going back to D.C. without her.

"I am so fucked," he told himself, not for the first time since he'd met her. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if his plan didn't work. When Brooks had asked him what plan B was he'd had to admit that he didn't have one. Plan B was coming back next summer and probably seeing her at Stampede with a kid in her arms watching Alan Jackson chasing baby cows around and that thought did make him want to pray to the porcelain god.

Reaching blindly Mike felt around his bedside table for the family heirloom he'd astonished his mother by asking for. It had been his grandmother's. It wasn't anything fancy. It was just a thin gold band with a tiny diamond and it was nothing like the one she was wearing now, but this one meant something. It would mean the world if she'd agree to wear it.

Mike turned it over in his hand and then held it up to the catch the light of the moon. It was tiny but it sparkled. It reminded him of Chelsea's eyes.

* * *

><p>"Can I just say I am <em>so<em> going to enjoy telling him to suck it?" Chelsea didn't even look up from stuffing her clothes into the almost full suitcase that was open on her bed but she did allow herself a quiet chuckle at her friend's enthusiasm.

"I know you will," she snorted as she shoved a handful of panties down one side and then reached for another handful.

"He is gonna be _so_ pissed," Shan added, sounding pleased with the idea and Chelsea had to admit to herself that she was no longer worried about upsetting Jimmy. It seemed pretty amazing the difference a few hours had made.

"Well just make sure my dad and Gramps are standing behind you when you tell him," she instructed. Not that she was worried Jimmy would take a swing, not in front of God and everyone, but it she knew that their presence would not only add proof that what Shan would be telling him was the truth, but it would discourage him from making a scene.

"How's your Gran taking it?" Shan asked, stilling Chelsea's frantic packing by closing her fingers around her arm. The two women's eyes met and the only thing that had stopped her from leaving in the middle of the night brought tears to her eyes now.

"She's disappointed," Chelsea admitted.

"It's this place, right?" Shan asked and Chelsea nodded. "It's not like you won't come back, _right_?" her friend added with a look that said she too was asking the question and Chelsea smiled and rolled her eyes.

"_Always_, of course I will and even if...if things do actually work in Washington...it's not like I won't be back but it's not the same." It hadn't been the same since her mother's death. Everyone knew it and no more so than the woman who'd been running the ranch ever since. Her father couldn't bear to enter the stables and now the only other blood relative she had would be gone.

"No, I guess not," Shan sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed reaching out to slide her fingers over the satin of the dress that hung on the back of the door and it would stay hanging there. "And I guess she'll have to get a new hand. But, on the bright side, at least the next time you're back he won't be here and hey, maybe you guys will wanna rent the house in the upper meadow?"

"Why, you wanna move into it?" Chelsea asked, pausing as she stared down at the diaphanous white gown her grandmother had bought her to wear on her wedding night. She thought about leaving it in the drawer, and then decided against to bring it with her.

"I dunno," Shan replied, lifting her eyebrow as she watched Chelsea fold the gown carefully onto the top of the pile of clothes in the suitcase. "Maybe when you come back next summer Mike can bring his friends again and I can have my own harem up there. Whaddya think?" The two women looked at each, both trying to keep straight faces, and then both lost the fight and they fell apart into a fit of giggles.

When the giggles had subsided, their gazes met and Chelsea saw tears glimmering in her friend's eyes.

"You'll come visit," she told her seriously.

"You bet. When are the Pens playing in Washington?" They both smiled, but they were smiles tinged with sadness.

"Now you're sure Nicky said they'd _all_ gone to the airport?" Chelsea asked, changing the subject, or rather bringing them back to the subject at hand.

"Yeah, that's what he texted last night," Shan replied, digging out her phone to show her friend the evidence. Chelsea stared at the text and felt those butterflies stirring in her stomach at last.

"Am I stupid for doing this?" she asked. Shan just grinned and shook her head.

* * *

><p>Mike stared at the raised up four by four pick up with the streamers and rosettes taped to it parked in front of the church and rolled his eyes. There was just no way she could marry that yokel and yet he hadn't been able to make himself open the door of his car to climb out and do something about that; at least not yet.<p>

He'd watched the guests going in, wearing their best summer dresses and light weight summer suits and every time he'd watched a couple walking up the steps he'd told himself he would go in right after them, or after the next couple, or the next couple for sure. And yet he was still in his car with a death grip on the steering wheel, listening to Kanye and trying to work up the courage.

He needed a drink.

No, he needed to grow a pair. He could hear the guys in his head. They'd be laughing at him and calling him a pussy and probably, no, definitely, worse. He didn't need to actually have them here to know that they'd be taunting him. Well it was easy for them, he decided as he watched another car pull up and yet another young couple get out and walk up those stairs and into those doors. It was easy to talk the talk but he knew from walking out on to the ice during the play offs that it was an entirely different thing to actually walk the walk.

It was the old Rolls Royce with the streamers tied to the hood ornament that stirred him to action. That would be her, he knew, or at the very least her grandparents, which meant she wouldn't be far behind.

'_Now or never Greener'_, he told himself as he pulled the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them and pulling the ring out.

"Here goes fucking nothin'", he muttered under his breath as he stepped out onto the sidewalk and started to head towards the car as it pulled up to the curb. His heart hammered hard against his chest and all he could think was '_what the fuck am I gonna do if she says no?_'

"Mike?"

His heart leaped in his chest but he knew, even before he turned around that it wasn't her voice he'd just heard. He did know the face of the woman with all the dark curls in the burgundy halter dress though and he was glad she didn't look pissed that he was here. That was something anyway.

"Ummm Shannon right?" he said, palming the ring and trying to look cool and calm. He was sweating like a pig in his best, most slick silver suit but he'd been told by a lot of women that he was pretty irresistible in it and if there was a time he needed to be that, it was now.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Okay, so maybe she wasn't happy to see him, Mike thought as he looked around at the quickly emptying sidewalk. He obviously wasn't the only one that sensed that the bride's arrival was, if not already at hand, at least close by. He wondered what she was going to look like. She'd be beautiful, of course, but then she always was but... "Hello? Earth to Mike...what you are you doing _here_?"

"Oh...yeah, well I know it's like...weird or something but...I just have to talk to her y'know?" he began, that tiny rock in his pocket suddenly weighed about a ton. '_Get a grip Greener'_, he thought as he realized that there was a really good chance he was about to totally bottle it.

"Yeah, you two definitely need to talk but not here," her friend hissed at him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of earshot of her grandparents who were getting out of the Rolls. Her grandmother sent him an evil glare. That woman really did not like him.

"Well it's kinda gotta be here 'cuz she can't marry him," Mike tried to explain, wondering if maybe it was the shades. Was he trying to go for too cool for school instead of desperate? He went to pull them off but when he turned back to her friend, his hand just sort of stayed there, mid air, while she shook her head and laughed. "Wha..what? What's so funny?" he asked, while she held onto her stomach and bit her lip; her full, ripe red bottom lip. No wonder Nicky had been sneaking her into his house in the middle of the night, Mike thought as he waited for her to gather some semblance of control. She was definitely doable in the '_I would pick her out at a bar and take her home'_ kind of way. Not that he should be thinking about women that way with a ring in his pocket, Mike scolded himself.

"It's just... well, she's _there_ and you're _here_," Shannon smirked and shook her head again.

"There?" Mike looked up at the church.

"No, dummy," Shannon made a grab for his pocket and pulled out his iPhone. The ring fell on the ground. They both stared at the ring and then stared at one another and then she really started to laugh.

* * *

><p>There was no answer. Chelsea tried the buzzer again, and waited, but there was still no answer.<p>

"Great," she moaned, and went back to sit on her suitcase. She'd come all this way, came straight here from the airport even though she felt like she needed a shower, just to surprise him and he wasn't even home. "He's probably out with some floozie," she mumbled, pulling out her phone, not for the first time, and considering whether or not to text him that she was here. It would ruin the element of surprise, for certain, but it sure as hell beat the pants off of sitting outside looking like she was begging for spare change.

She had just slid the unlock bar from left to right on her phone when a text appeared.

_Nicky's on his way with a key_

Chelsea's free hand flew up to cover her mouth as she let out a happy little squeal.

_Stay there_, _don't move_ the next text said simply, _I'm on the next flight. _


	21. Chapter 21

_Are we gonna do this or what?  
>I think you know I love you a lot<br>I think we've got a real good shot  
>Are you gonna kiss me or not?<em>

_(lyrics from Thompson Square Are you Gonna Kiss Me or Not?)_

**Chapter 21**

Mike skidded to a stop outside of his own bedroom door. He'd run through the airport. He'd run from the cab into the building and right to this spot and now he found that he couldn't move. There was a woman in his bed and for once Mike was pretty god damned ecstatic about that.

Now it was real. It had got pretty real when he'd offered to back up her friend Shannon while she told Jim Bob that he wasn't getting married. Predictably the cowpoke hadn't taken it well. Mike was now sporting an impressive shiner as the result of drawing Jimmy's ire. Not that he regretted it. Especially not now, not with her shining scarlet curls spread out over his pillows.

As he dragged his shirt over his head Mike toed off his shoes, stepping out of them as he made his way to the side of the bed. When he reached for his belt her eyes fluttered open and he was stopped in his tracks, learning all over again about the effects those leaf green eyes had on his soul.

"Fucking Christ you're beautiful," he sighed, feeling rooted to the spot and very suddenly very unworthy of running his hands over her smooth, milky white skin.

"Jimmy do that?" she asked, blinking sleepily up at him.

"Oh this?" he pointed at his swollen eye. "I thought I'd bring you back a little something from home." She shook her head and pursed her lips in obvious disapproval of Jimmy's actions. "I can't believe you're actually here," he added in a far more solemn tone. One corner of her full lips turned up and the seriousness left her gaze as she reached towards him and hooked one of her fingers in his belt loop.

"Well if you want me to stay then you have a lot of grovelling to do Greener," she purred, giving him a tug which he followed almost like she already had him on a leash, "I suggest you start now. I have a feeling that it might be a long, _long_ day for you." Mike smiled, the ache that had been in his chest since that day at Stampede finally easing as he kneeled on the bed and peeled his dark sheets back, revealing her inch by inch to his hungry gaze. He took in the view like a man stumbling out of the desert into an oasis, reminding himself as he did that he'd almost lost it, almost lost her forever. "Mike?" she asked quietly, her hand sliding down his thigh. Her touch felt like hot embers from a fire grazing his skin and he shuddered.

"I am _so_ sorry," he whispered, his breath caught in his throat as his gaze once again met hers. She smiled, sadness leaking into her eyes and making them darker, like a shady glade in the forest.

"I know," she whispered back, reaching for his hand and lacing her fingers with his. He looked down at their twined hands and choked back a sob. He'd come so close to never feeling her hand in his again. "Just...next time you get the urge to touch one of those puck sluts," she began, giving his hand a little shake that brought his gaze back to hers', "just know that when I find out, and I will, I'll cut it off with a pair of rusty kitchen shears and feed it to your downstairs' neighbour's Pomeranian, and I won't even take you to the hospital."

Mike winced as he thought about the dog's tiny razor sharp teeth; for some reason that bothered him more than the scissors. He didn't tell her that he'd probably volunteer to do it himself if he ever thought he was going to lose her again. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear Ovie and Brooksy telling him that it was uncool to give a chick that much power over him. Maybe it was, but then again, maybe they'd never felt what he did now as she pulled him down over her, as he felt the soft press of her breasts and her smooth, warm skin under his hands as he wrapped himself around her.

He wanted to promise that it would never happen but he knew the temptations would be there, as long as he played in the league they wouldn't go away. So as he kissed her, as he felt her fingers digging into his hair and her hips rising to press eagerly against him, he silently vowed to remind himself of this moment any time one of those cheap girls with their cheap clothes and their cheap perfumes threatened to make him forget.

"I love you," he whispered against her mouth as he wriggled out of his jeans and eased himself between her thighs.

"Don't forget that," she whispered in return, her back arching, her words turning into a gasp as he slowly slid his cock home in her warm, wet pussy. Mike groaned as she enveloped him, as her nails dug into his back and as he felt his balls snug up tight.

"That I _can_ promise," he told her hoarsely as he held himself still, as he fought not to embarrass himself, just as he'd had to do the first time and as he thought he might always have to do with her.

She didn't say it back and though it hurt, Mike reminded himself that he would have to be patient, that he would have to earn the honour of hearing her say those words. So, gritting his teeth, he slid his hands down to cup her ass, lifting it up off of the bed and began to make long, slow strokes that made her eyes flutter shut and her sweet, succulent mouth fall open in a soundless cry and he hoped that he would be as successful doing that as he had been earning his spot on the Caps' roster.

* * *

><p>"So you didn't ask her yet?" Brooks looked relieved and that made Mike laugh. His friend had a real phobia about commitment which, he thought to himself, was exactly why Laich's new living arrangements worked.<p>

"There just hasn't been the right moment," Mike explained with a shrug as he hung his tie on the coat rack and started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"You gonna do it? You gonna ask her?" Ovie called from his corner. The only reason the big Russian cared was that it would be another excuse to have a party. So far they'd had a party for everyone being back in town, a party for the start of training camp, a party for the end of training camp and a party for the beginning of pre-season. Mike was beginning to fear the sight of a vodka bottle.

"Well...yeah, actually I had this idea...I dunno, it's kinda dumb," he began, feeling the tips of his ears beginning to heat up as he thought about it. The idea had come to him the night they'd helped Chelsea's friend Shannon and Brooks move into Backsy's place. They'd all ended watching Slapshot in the early hours of the morning while having a few wobbly pops. It had seemed like a funny idea at the time, but now, as he stood in the dressing room in his underwear surrounded by his teammates, he was definitely losing his nerve.

"If it comes from you Greener, of course it's dumb," Semin barked as he went by, snapping a wet towel at Mike, who easily dodged it. He was in better shape than he had been for years and he was pretty sure it was from all of the time he's spent in bed with Chelsea and nothing at all to do with all the weights he'd lifted over the summer or the wind sprints Coach Boudreau was insisting on lately.

"Yeah well I'm not asking you fuckers to do anything and you'll all get a good fucking laugh I'm sure," he muttered eyeing the bulge in the pocket of his suit jacket.

"Good, she say yes, we have big party, my house," Sasha grinned, slapping Mike on the back so hard he stumbled forward. "And if she no say yes, we drink anyway, da?"

"Yeah, da," Mike mumbled, his stomach churning uncomfortably at the idea of Chelsea turning him down.

* * *

><p>"Slut," Chelsea muttered under her breath as Shannon slid into the seat beside her.<p>

"Whore," Shannon giggled as she handed Chelsea an extra large Coke. "I see what you mean about these seats," she added as she settled a tray of nachos on her lap, "_waay_ better than sitting up in the box." Chelsea sipped the dark bubbly liquid through the straw and nodded. It wasn't that she didn't like any of the other girlfriends and the couple of wives but she liked being closer to the action where she could hear the sound of the blades digging into the ice and the crash of bodies against the glass. Plus, she could see every expression on Mike's face from here.

"He looks nervous," she said, mostly to herself. He was staring straight ahead, watching Beags take a pass and streak towards the net but she knew him well enough now that she knew when he pursed his lips like he was doing now that he was worrying about something.

"First game," Shannon replied as she thoughtfully munched on a chip.

"He was jazzed about it last night," she countered, watching as he stopped a ricocheting puck and lined up his own shot, which missed and wildly bounced off of the boards. "It's something else," she added, again mostly to herself.

"Brooks totally was too, but Nicky not so much. He was more nervous," Shan said as her gaze followed the young Swede as he circled the ice slowly, his long blonde locks floating behind him like a miniature cape. As they both watched Brooks took two strides, put his shoulder down and sent Nicky into the boards. It wasn't a hard hit and Backstrom bounced off of the boards but even the other fans around them gasped.

"So they're still getting along just great I see," Chelsea smirked, glad to shift her worries to her friend's unique living arrangements.

"Nicky gets along with everybody," Shan sighed, slowly loosening her grip on her drink so that her knuckles were not quite so white. "Brooks just doesn't share as well." Chelsea bit her bottom lip to stifle a bark of laughter.

"I still have trouble imagining _you_ in a _them_ sandwich," she snickered as they both watched the two men stare each other down. Chelsea felt Shan reach for her hand and then she winced as her friend grabbed her hand in a death grip. If they fought, on the ice, the two players would not be the only heads that Boudreau would be hunting. Fortunately, while they and everyone around them held their collective breaths, Mike skated between the two of them and gave them both the same look; '_do it and I'll kick your ass'_. Nicky, not surprisingly, was the first to back down. Chelsea heard Shan blow out a breath and felt her friend ease her grip on her hand. "I'm sorry babes, I don't see that working out in the long run," Chelsea added as her friend went back to munching on her cheese covered chips.

"Well they're going to have to figure it out, as long as both of them are claiming to be the father," Shan replied calmly as if it were an everyday occurrence to not be certain of the biological father of your unborn child.

"And in the mean time you're going to let them rip each other's heads off?" Chelsea asked, keeping her voice low.

"Well a little healthy competition never hurt anyone," Shan shrugged and grinned while Chelsea shook her head and laughed.

* * *

><p>'<em>Oh god, oh god, oh god I can't believe I'm doing this'<em> Mike thought as he glanced up at the scoreboard and watched the time tick down. His hands felt clammy in his gloves and his stomach was doing some crazy calisthenics.

"Did I hear right?" Mike dropped his gaze to find the eldest of the Staal brothers lining up for a face off near the bench. "You gonna strip after the game out here?" Mike swallowed and nodded. Eric laughed. "We're gonna stay and laugh, you know that right?" Again Mike could only nod. It was gonna be on you-tube in no time, there would be twit-pics of him in his jock that would make Kesler proud if it came to that. He hoped it wouldn't.

"You wait I get my phone," Ovie warned from where he was standing at the end of the bench, ready to make the sprint down the tunnel; no doubt so that he could be the first to tweet about his humiliation Mike thought as the ref blew the whistle and he glanced back up at the scoreboard to watch the seconds tick down.

"If you're doing this just so that you think she can't say no in front of all these people," Nicky whispered, his gaze still on the ice as the players fought for the puck, "I wouldn't," he added in a serious tone. Mike glanced over at him and then back towards the seats where their women sat with their heads huddled together. Nicky was right, as usual, that was partly the reason for doing this so publicly but it was also so that she would know that he wanted the whole world and every puck bunny in it to know that he wanted her and her alone.

"I have to," Mike replied simply and felt his stomach do a back flip. He had thought he would get calmer the closer it got to the time but that wasn't the way it was working out.

"Well I hope for your sake that she says yes," Nicky said, laying his gloved hand gently on Mike's shoulder. "Otherwise you're never going to hear the end of it."

"Like that's even a possibility," Mike mumbled.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ladies and gentleman, can we <em>_please have you remain in your seats at the end of the game for a special announcement." _

Chelsea looked at Shan and raised an eyebrow.

"Damn, sounds ominous," Shan hissed. The crowd around them rumbled, fans near them speculating everything from the President having been shot to some new bullshit award for Ovie. People that had begun to leave stood in the aisles as the Canes fought for one last shot. The Caps were up three to two. There was only three seconds left.

"It's probably just something about the next game," Chelsea muttered, sitting back in her seat and dropping her purse back down between her feet. The whistle to signal the end of the game went and the players headed for the respective benches, but didn't head down the corridors that would lead to the change rooms. Instead they milled around on the ice or stated on the benches. She was about to speculate that it was probably some charity thing when one of the half doors opened on the Caps bench and Mike stepped out onto the ice, minus his helmet. "What the...?" she began as she watched him fiddling with the switch on a wireless microphone.

"Uh, hi, everyone and uh...thanks for staying. Ummm I hope you liked the game." A roar went up. The fans loved a win. Mike waited for the roar to die down, a peculiar half smile on his face. "Uh, yeah, so not a lot of you know that I have a girlfriend." An audible buzz filled the Verizon centre and Chelsea cringed.

"Oh god, what is he doing?" she hissed, sliding down in her seat and wishing she had the power of invisibility.

"I don't know," Shan laughed, giving Chelsea a playful shove and pointing up at the big screen from which her own anxious face stared back at her, "but you won't be able to say that none of the pucksluts know who you are after this."

"But uh...anyways," Mike got down on one knee, almost like he did when Coach Boudreau had them do in practice, "I wanted to ask her, in front of all of you who have made me so welcome here like I'm a member of your family," he added and then, up on the big screen he smiled as he revealed a simple ring, holding it up as he faced her. "So whaddya say Chels, will you marry me?"

He looked right at her and Chelsea felt the urge pull her jersey up over her head and try to disappear. She also had the urge to say no. How could he ask her in front of all of these people? He knew she hated crowds and hated all of the attention that he seemed to love.

"Yeah, I kinda thought you'd be shy so uh...here's the deal. I'm gonna strip until you give me your answer."

Chelsea squealed and then she did pull her jersey up until just her eyes were showing as the first notes of Joe Cocker's 'You Can Leave Your Hat On' began to play in the arena.

"No, no, nooooo," she squeaked as Backsy skated out onto the ice to take the microphone and Mike began to slowly skate away from centre ice.

* * *

><p><em>Baby take off your coat<br>Real slow  
>Take off your shoes<br>I'll take off your shoes  
>Baby take off your dress<br>Yes, yes, yes_

'_Oh god, I can't believe I'm doing this'_ Mike thought as he swung his jersey around his head on one finger. He looked right at her as he threw it against the glass. She was doing her best to try and disappear into her seat but he could hear the fans chanting 'say yes, say yes' and he realized that he wasn't nervous anymore.

_Go over there, turn on the light  
>Hey, all the lights<br>Come over here, stand on that chair  
>Yeah, that's right<br>Raise your arms up in the air  
>Now shake 'em<em>

He tossed his shoulder pads onto the ice, followed by his elbow pads and then slid his thumb under one of the straps of his suspenders. He was half way around the ice now and as he made the corner he could see Shannon trying to drag Chelsea to her feet.

_Suspicious minds are talkin'  
>They're tryin' to tear us apart<br>They don't believe in this love of mine  
>They don't know what love is<em>

He stepped out of his hockey pants and kicked them aside. He could hear the guys hooting and hollering from the benches. He'd thought it would bother him but it surprised him that it didn't, not as long as he focused on her.

_They don't know what love is_

He dragged his t-shirt up over his head and started to swing it around his head when he got near to their seats and he was almost sure that she was trying to yell something. He just couldn't hear it over the crowd and the music. He stopped at the glass and held his hand up behind his ear. She made a face and flipped him the bird. Mike shrugged and hooked and his thumbs under the waist band of his compression shorts.

"She says yes!"

There were probably two rows of people shouting it but it rang out loud and clear as Mike skidded to a stop, sending a shower of snow against the boards. He gestured at tone of the ushers at the top of the aisle, who ran down the steps and shoved a microphone in front of her. Chelsea made an angry face and then snatched the microphone.

"Yes, alright? Yes, I'll marry you just please don't make these people look at your pale butt."


	22. Chapter 22

_Epilogue_

"Do you think she'll ever tell them?" Mike asked as he leaned over her shoulder, dropping a cold glass of lemonade into her hand and a kiss onto her cheek. Chelsea coked her head to one side as she watched the two men taking turns tossing a ball to a flaxen haired blue eyed boy who was barely able to stand long enough to catch it.

"Voluntarily? Not a chance," she replied, reaching back to cover his hand with hers as she turned to look up into his dark eyes. "You ready for that?" she asked, turning her attention back to the unique family in the tall grass. Shannon already showing with her second child, Brooks and Nick the doting fathers.

"Can't wait," Mike pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she slid her hand protectively over her own bump as she felt a solid kick.

"Oh!" she exclaimed and then his hand was there, over hers', brilliant with diamonds. "I don't think you're supposed to wear that when your barbequing," she mused, her gaze lifting to meet his. He smiled but neither argued nor went into the house to take it off.

"Some women just aren't built to be monogamous." Chelsea turned and peeked around Mike, the smell of freshly baked bread suddenly filling the summer air. Her grandmother, framed in the doorway of the old house, looked smaller, frailer than she remembered when she'd left last fall.

"Do you hear that Mike? Who should I take as my second husband? Toews? Crosby?" she teased as he took the platter with the piping hot bread from her Gran and received a kiss on the cheek. Mike's money had certainly helped with the improvements on the ranch but more than that, Chelsea knew that the old woman was just glad to have a full house for a few months and even happier to have a great granddaughter on the way. The prospect of the pitter patter of tiny feet on the old woman floor boards had gone a long way to improving Mike's standing in her eyes.

"I thought you'd learned your lesson about mixing multiple men," he growled into her ear before lowering the platter in front of her so she could indulge her latest craving for fresh, warm butter soaked bread. Taking a thick slice, Chelsea closed her eyes, took a big bite and chewed slowly, savoring the taste and letting the butter drip down her chin.

"I know," she said, her mouth still full, "I've only just got you trained. Don't know how Shan does it," she added having a contented sigh before taking another bite.

"Brooks has got much better at sharing," Shan declared as she joined them on the deck, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the freshly baked offering and opting to soothe her own craving by sliding the spatula under one of the very thick and still quite rare t-bone steaks, sliding it onto a plate and grinning when the meat's juices ran out all over the plate.

"Another boy?" Chelsea asked and then watched as the two men puffed out their chests.

"With all the testosterone in that house, how could it be anything else?" her Gran observed as she reappeared with a big bowl of potato salad that Nicky was quick to grab out of her hands.

"What are you saying I don't have any?" Mike asked, his bottom lip jutting out, his spaniel puppy eyes drooping.

"I'm saying you're a nice boy," her Gran replied with a sparkle in her eye as she patted his chubby, stubble covered cheek. "That one, he isn't nice. Cute, but not nice," she added with a wink in Brooks' direction. The big forward's chest puffed out even more and a big shit eating grin spread across his face as he preened like a rooster. "Now this one, this one I would keep myself," she cooed patting Nicky's cheek which then turned a deep shade of scarlet as she grinned up at him.

"Old woman, put that poor boy down. He has enough to deal with that tigress he lives with," Chelsea's grandfather interjected as he emerged from the house and first placed a kiss on his wife's wizened cheek and then on his granddaughter's. "And I think CeeCee is perfectly happy with her choice, isn't that right?" he asked, looking benevolently at both of them. Chelsea reached up for Mike's hand and felt his hand slide along her cheek and she leaned into it and closed her eyes.

"Oh yes," she whispered, "very happy."


End file.
